


Black Reign

by bykim0120



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon II is a pig, Alternate Blackfyre Rebellion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anti-magic conspiracy, Condensed Timeline, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Helaena and Daeron deserve better, Jonerys (alternate form), Larra Rogare is a pedophile, Rhaenys Targaryen (daughter of Aemon) lives, The Dance of the Dragons | Aegon II Targaryen v. Rhaenyra Targaryen Era, The Pact of Ice and Fire is consummated, The victor of the Dance is clearer, Visenya Targaryen (daughter of Rhaenyra lives), War, jonerys is endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:47:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 133,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bykim0120/pseuds/bykim0120
Summary: What if a key moment in the Dance of the Dragons had gone differently? How would that affect the Dance in general? And what would the new result have on the future of House Targaryen? The Dance of the Dragons strained the last dragonlords, but when new threats against them emerge, will they apply the lessons learned? See the Dance in its full violent nature and the bloody aftermath.
Relationships: Aegon II Targaryen/Helaena Targaryen (messed up), Aegon III Targaryen/Jaehaera Targaryen, Aemon "The Dragonknight" Targaryen/Undisclosed, Alicent Hightower/Viserys I Targaryen, Baela Targaryen/Daeron Targaryen (Son of Viserys I), Corlys Velaryon/Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Aemon), Cregan Stark/Alysanne Blackwood (past), Cregan Stark/Arra Norrey (past), Cregan Stark/Helaena Targaryen, Criston Cole/Rhaenyra Targaryen (one-sided), Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daena Targaryen/Daemon Targaryen (alternate Aegon IV Targaryen), Elaena Targaryen/Original Character(s), Floris Baratheon/Aemond Targaryen, Jacaerys Velaryon/Nettles (one-sided), Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Aemon)/Viserys I Targaryen (past), Viserys II Targaryen/Sarra Stark
Comments: 200
Kudos: 181





	1. Combat Over Rook's Rest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Longclaw_1_6](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Longclaw_1_6/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys! This is bykim0120 here. And this will be the third work I embark on, which will take place during the Dance of the Dragons. 
> 
> I've been thinking about this story for quite a while in the midst of authoring my other two works and I was wondering what would happen if the Dance turned out differently (I know, it's a pretty common theme explored in the GoT/ASOIAF fandom). But I feel that this work would really dig into the actual war stuff (the blood, the violence, the chaos) and explore the consequences of the conflict. I also changed up some key details in order to make the progression of this story have more sense while only using established knowledge as a general framework. As someone who studied history, I am very aware that area is not at all objective and thus, all of the anti-Rhaenyra hate was because the ones who wrote the histories of the Dance had something to lose and had fragile egos. I feel that had things went a different direction, there wouldn't have been the ambiguity that the Dance's aftermath had. 
> 
> And also, this work will not just be limited to the Dance, as I will also cover the years post-Dance and how House Targaryen progressed since the end. 
> 
> Be prepared, for I did promise action. Enjoy!

"Duram, come on back inside and get some supper,” Howard called out to his son.

“Just a moment, papa,” the boy responded as he ran outside on the fields.

Howard couldn’t help but smile at his young son’s innocence. Having seen a mere nine name days, he was still full of life and protected from the harsh realities of the world. _As it should be, until the time comes when he becomes a man._

Trusting his son to come inside when he was done playing, Howard walked into his small wooden cottage and looked upon his wife Lily as she cut some carrots and put them in a pot, where their stew was boiling over a fire. She might not have resembled Good Queen Alysanne or Queen Alicent back in King’s Landing, but she was pretty enough and she knew how to run a home. Howard knew that he and Duram were in good hands because of her.

Such was life for Howard ever since he started to understand what his place in the world was. His father tilled the fields for House Staunton, then his father before him and so on. What’s strange for him was that they never saw Lord Staunton and only someone who claimed to act on his behalf, usually to collect taxes. Should there be any problems with the harvest or anything that would affect their lord, the man who acted on Lord Staunton’s orders would issue several warning before beating a man thought to be shirking on his duties to the land.

Such was the case for smallfolk such as Howard. They were expected to perform duties for lords that they would never speak with, who in turn answered to kings or queens that would never treat with smallfolk on a normal basis. Howard also had no reason to know the lord he serves or the rulers that ride dragons in the skies above Westeros. _I have everything I want here._

Howard had a brother, Qarlton, who was in King’s Landing wearing the gold cloak, a tradition started by the Rogue Prince. Some of his fellow brothers wearing the gold were incredibly loyal to the Rogue Prince especially after he returned from the Stepstones and swore his allegiance to King Viserys.

But alas, Viserys died and now the dragons were split among those who sought the iron chair forged by Aegon the Conqueror. People have said that Rhaenyra remained the delight of the realm while similar words could not describe what people felt for Aegon the Second of His Name as his supporters called him. The only reason why people paid attention to him was because of Queen Alicent, his younger brother Prince Daeron, and his one-eyed brother Prince Aemond. He had heard from his brother Qarlton that you never talked about Aemond’s eye, as that was the quickest way for him to challenge and then kill whoever dared to insult him. _What has this world come to?_

Finally, people were saying that the fighting had already broken out between the supporters of Princess Rhaenyra, called the blacks, and supporters of King Aegon, called the greens. Whatever was true, Howard only hoped that the dragons, which he heard flying only once in his life, would not be near his family. _No fire shall touch my Duram and my Lily._

“He still outside, Howard?” Lily asked while still focused on her cooking.

“It’s good for him, to remain active at his age. He’ll make for a strong man working in the fields,” Howard said blissfully.

“I’d say he would be a strong lad, strong enough to become a knight,” Lily answered.

Howard’s eyes darkened. “What’s wrong with him staying with us as a farmer?”

“Nothing,” Lily replied. “I have no doubt that he will be great with the sickle and hoe, just like his father.” Howard beamed at her praise. “However, that doesn’t mean that he should stay here forever.”

“Lily, we talked about this,” Howard came closer to his wife. “It’s too late for him to be a page and we don’t know if anyone will take him on.”

“But I’ve heard talk that you don’t have to be a page to become a squire,” Lily put the knife down and turned to Howard. “I’ve heard talk that you can be as old as one and ten and become a squire. After that, it’s only a matter of time before Duram would get his knighthood.”

Howard sighed. “I don’t want Duram anywhere near a blade.”

“You think I want him to kill people, Howard?”

“No, I don’t. But as a knight, he’s going to have to do his share of killing. Qarlton told me that it is an unsafe life wearing the gold cloak and he fears every time he has to venture to Flea Bottom.”

“Maybe so, but Qarlton can expect his wages every moon and he’s living more comfortably than most people can expect,” Lily answered back.

“Qarlton chose the fighting life only because he didn’t want to be stuck in the slaughterhouse,” Howard reminded Lily. “And it’s not like he gets treated well by his leaders in gold.”

“We don’t get treated well anyway, Howard,” Lily responded. “But I know Duram is meant for greater things and these fields are not fit for him.”

“Becoming a knight is not a sure way to go up in the realm,” Howard said. “Qarlton wields a blade, but he doesn’t expect to get a lordship anytime soon, if ever. As for the lords in the land, they don’t care about us. We build their roads and we fight all their wars but we mean nothing to them. Are those the kind of people that you wish our son to fight for?” Howard questioned.

Lily put her hands on her waist. “Maybe not, but I have no wish for our son to remain farming like your father and his father before him. And I don’t expect my son to be a lord either, but the life of a knight is certainly better than the life in the fields. At least he will be among people of actual importance.”

“Even if he does become a knight, Lily, who do you think will pay for his armor and blade? Certainly not the one who knighted him and there’s more to being a knight than being able to kill, things that just cannot happen because of where were are,” Howard pointed out.

Lily exhaled. “Our son can read, thanks to the maester’s kindness. And he’s already a strong lad. A farmer’s life is not for him.”

Howard sighed, knowing that there was no budging his wife on the issue of their son. “Maybe one of these days soon, we can talk about it with Duram and see what he has to say. I’m just worried about what is happening right now.”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I heard from some that just came from the Gods Eye. Harrenhal has been taken by the Rogue Prince and there is fighting between Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Aegon, both of whom are trying to claim the iron chair,” Howard explained.

“So there’s a war going on?” Lily gulped.

“Yes,” Howard nodded. “And thus, I have no wish for my family, my son especially, to be near a blade. The dirt and the rivers will be red with blood before the year is out and Qarlton assures me that King’s Landing will become a bloodbath.”

Lily slumped her shoulders, understanding the situation. “The dragons are fighting each other… hopefully we don’t see fire in the skies soon.”

“Hopefully,” Howard agreed while hugging Lily. “You and Duram are the most important things in the world right now. And I will do everything that I can to keep you and him safe.”

Lily returned the hug. “I know you will.” Separating from her husband, Lily returned to cooking.

But just as Howard was about to call his son again, he heard the door open and Duram enter, but with two armed men entering along with a man wearing a white cloak. Howard paid no attention to the other two, but the man with the white cloak had coal black hair and pale green eyes. He looked… charming and his face would make any maiden blush. But for Lily, she was afraid at the men who suddenly barged into their home.

“May I help you?” Howard asked them.

“Is this your boy?” the man in the white cloak put his hand on Duram’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Howard bobbed his head before the man told Duram to go to his father.

“Papa, who are these men?” Duram was afraid, causing Howard to hold him tighter against him.

The man in the white cloak smiled with reassurance to the boy. “Don’t worry, boy. We’re not here to hurt you. We merely require your father’s home for the battle ahead.”

“What battle?” Howard asked frantically. “What’s going on?”

“Show some respect, cur,” one of the armed men put his hand on his sword’s pommel. “This is Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and you shall address him as such.”

 _Kingsguard?_ Howard thought with fear. “I apologize, milord. I’m worried about my family’s safety if there is a battle. Will the king come, milord?”

The Lord Commander shook his head. “Not now, but he will soon. However, I require your home and your field for what will come.”

“May I ask, my lord, what will happen?” Lily asked.

The Lord Commander looked to Lily, hesitant to explain before relenting. “We’re here to do battle with the traitors of the realm, their leader being Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and her supporters. Aegon the Second of His Name is our king by right of birth and blood and we’re here to secure the lands near King’s Landing from the enemy.”

“Will we be safe, my lord?” Lily inquired.

“Don’t worry, my lady. Even our enemies won’t stoop so low as to kill innocent people, but we need to prepare when the one of Rhaenyra’s supporters arrive here,” the Lord Commander explained.

“Does this have to do with anything relating to the Rogue Prince?” Howard asked. The Lord Commander and the armed men turned to Howard with surprise.

“How do you know about that?” one of the men asked.

“I’ve spoken with a passerby from the Gods Eye. He told me that the Rogue Prince just seized Harrenhal and that the riverlands were about to fall to Princess Rhaenyra’s army,” Howard revealed.

“You seem to know pretty much about the war,” the other armed man stepped forward threateningly. “You an agent for the traitor Rhaenyra?”

The Lord Commander held up his hand. “Stay your sword, ser. He’s just a farmer. But yes, the Rogue Prince has complicated matters and we must prepare accordingly. And as such, we would need to burn your farm.”

Howard widened his eyes. “What?”

“Lord Staunton has declared for the enemy and thus we must deny him and his traitorous princess food and land. But don’t worry. Our king will provide necessary compensation when the time comes,” the Lord Commander reassured him.

“My lord, we are in the process of getting the harvest before the winter the maester at Rook’s Rest says will come comes. Please allow us to get that harvest before you burn it. We need that to survive the winter,” Howard pleaded.

The Lord Commander’s eyes softened before hardening again. “I’m sorry, but sacrifices must be made to ensure our rightful king remains on the throne. And as I promise, you shall be compensated in due time.” He turned to one of the knights. “Get the men to prepare the archers and scorpions and proceed with firing the field.”

“Yes, my lord,” the knight bowed his head before heading outside of the hut.

“And you,” the Lord Commander spoke to the other knight. “Protect this family while I head out to inspect the troops. I shall return shortly.”

“Yes, Lord Cole,” the other knight dipped his head while Lord Commander Cole went out of the hut.

The knight turned to the family before looking at Duram and kneeling before the boy. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Duram, good ser,” the boy replied innocently.

“You being a good boy to your mother and father?” the knight asked him softly. Duram nodded, prompting a smile from the knight. “Maybe when this is all over, I shall return here. Would you like to be a squire if I gave you the chance?”

Howard eyes widened in horror. He couldn’t object because to do so would offend the knight, but he didn’t want his son to say yes.

“It would be an honor, good ser,” Duram replied giddily.

“Then on my honor, I shall return when the traitors are dealt with,” the knight put his hand on his chest. The knight then looked to Lily, who silently thanked him.

“Would you like some stew, ser?” Lily offered.

The knight smiled. “Yes, please.”

Howard sat uneasily as the knight ate at their table and he smelled the strong scent of smoke. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, whose name Howard discovered was Criston Cole of the stormlands, spent the next several days burning the fields while he watched several men armed with bows and large equipment called scorpions be moved into place in several concealed positions. He was tempted to ask what exactly they were doing, but considering that last knight’s response to him asking questions, he decided it was better to let Ser Criston and his men do their work. Howard hoped that they would leave as soon as their purpose was accomplished and that they would keep their promise to compensate him and his family for burning their fields.

As Howard woke up to another day of the troops living in and near his home and walking outside to see the army continuing to surround Rook’s Rest, he could only manage sigh. _Out of all the times they could have chosen to fight, they had to do so in the middle of a harvest. They get food while my family will starve if the compensation doesn’t come._

Just then, a thunderous roar broke through the relative calm of the morning, causing Howard to jump back in fear.

“Papa, look up!” Duram pointed upwards. Howard did so and saw a red dragon descending rapidly upon the troops surrounding Rook’s Rest.

“Let it loose!” Howard heard one of the men on the scorpions as they released their bolts. Crossbows and longbows alike also released their arrows onto the descending red dragon, but the large bolts missed their mark, as did the arrows. Suddenly, Howard’s vision was temporarily blinded as he saw fire come out of the red dragon’s mouth, consuming the troops around Rook’s Rest.

 _My gods… what have they done?_ Howard thought in fear.

Then, another dragon roar pierced through the air and Howard saw another dragon, this one being golden, close in on the red dragon. They then engaged in a fight hundreds of feet in the air and all watched as the two creatures bit and spew flames at each other.

Howard drew Duram closer to him as he watched the spectacle.

 _Oh, Father, if you can hear me, please let this end quickly. There’s no telling what will happen when dragons are involved_ , Howard prayed silently but seeing his faith shaken by the horrifically awesome sight above him.

* * *

Rhaenys Targaryen flew with all haste to Rook’s Rest to aid Lord Staunton in repelling those aligned with Aegon Targaryen, who referred to themselves as “greens.” The air flew against her face as she finally saw the mainland come into view, but she steeled herself for what was to come ahead.

Rhaenys arrived above Rook's Rest to aid Lord Staunton after he had sent his raven for assistance. However, just as she arrived, she found herself and Meleys under fire by volleys of arrows and most alarming, scorpion bolts. Although one wasn’t enough to guarantee a dragon kill, Rhaenys remembered the fate of her namesake at Hellholt and that of Meraxes. She was not going to take any chances with Meleys given her age and especially after their agents in King’s Landing told me of a change in the leadership among those supporting Aegon, most notably the replacement of Otto Hightower with Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Rhaenyra looked a little troubled at the mention of his name, as if it brought back a horrible memory, but Rhaenys wisely decided not to ask until later.

By some miracle, Meleys managed to avoid the arrows and scorpion bolts, which resembled pikes in Rhaenys’ opinion. She felt one scorpion bolt come within an arm’s length of her face, and she felt the wind rush from that. She gripped Meleys’ spines tighter and gulped, nervous at how close that bolt was to making her like her namesake.

Deciding that it was time to strike back, she nudged Meleys upwards before circling back and lining up the first formation of archers and scorpions that she saw.

“DRACARYS!” Rhaenys yelled out as Meleys unleashed a stream of dragonfire onto the enemy troops. She smiled in satisfaction as she heard screams upon screams of the traitors as they burned to a crisp. Smoke rose in the air as the smell of burning flesh hit her nose.

But her celebrations were cut short, as Rhaenys heard another dragon roar pierce through the sky, this one not coming from Meleys. Looking back and scanning above, her eyes widened as she saw the golden form of Sunfyre descend upon her and Meleys. That only meant that Aegon had arrived and the siege of Rook’s Rest was merely a ploy to draw her, Rhaenyra, or Daemon out.

Finding no time to curse herself for such carelessness, Rhaenys leaned closer to Meleys’ neck. _Sunfyre is here! Climb up and disrupt his dive!_

Meleys roared her affirmation as she did a sudden sharp climb into the air, barely avoiding Sunfyre’s dive and thus his flames. Like Rhaenys, she had every reason to be worried about Sunfyre. Although younger than she was, Sunfyre was a large and powerful dragon blessed with youth, meaning that he could outfight and outlast Meleys over an extended period of time. And if Sunfyre and Aegon were here, then it wouldn’t be long before Aemond and Vhagar arrived. If they came, it was all over.

Acting quickly, Rhaenys leveled Meleys out and had her bank left in order to catch a glimpse of Sunfyre. He had recovered faster than she had anticipated and she could see Sunfyre’s mouth open and flames starting to emerge. The one advantage that Meleys enjoyed over Sunfyre was speed and Rhaenys knew that she could easily withdraw and fight another day. However, that still left one more dragon hostile to Rhaenyra and one of their supporters in the crownlands still besieged by the enemy.

An idea popping in her head, Rhaenys avoided Sunfyre and his flames at the last possible second and spun Meleys downwards back to Rook’s Rest. She held onto her spines as tightly as she could and saw with satisfaction that they were outpacing Sunfyre. Knowing that their advantage had to be used wisely, Rhaenys decided to inflict as much damage to the enemy troops as she could before reengaging Aegon and Sunfyre.

Orienting Meleys to a large cluster of enemy troops on a burnt out field, Rhaenys called out “DRACARYS!” But instead of a simple burst of fire, Rhaenys guided Meleys in a semi-circular maneuver, where the red dragon would utilize her superior speed to avoid enemy arrows and scorpion bolts while releasing continuous flames onto the troops. Meleys would be moving too fast for archers or those operating the scorpions to get an accurate fix on her while the damage would be maximized.

As Meleys climbed up into the sky after finishing her attack, Rhaenys looked back and saw more fires burning and more troops dying. She was not good at getting an accurate count of soldiers, but judging from the area that she and Meleys just burned, she guessed that a large portion of the force besieging Rook’s Rest was eliminated, enough for the enemy to rethink storming Rook’s Rest with such fewer numbers.

Scanning the skies for Sunfyre, Rhaenys felt herself be jolted when she heard his distinct roar coming from below. However, unlike the first time, Meleys couldn’t avoid close contact and was thus thrust into a melee that was soon witnessed by those below. The golden dragon clawed at the Red Queen while both attempted to unseat their opposing riders with their jaws or dragonfire, causing looks of horrified wonder to emerge onto the spectators on the ground.

Rhaenys felt as Meleys scratched at Sunfyre’s belly and bashed her head with his, while Sunfyre almost forced Rhaenys off with a breath of fire. Both were locked in a vicious struggle as talons tore at their skin and eyes burning into each other with such ferocity and hate that any past links with each other was a distant memory. One wouldn’t know how long could Meleys last under the more powerful and energetic Sunfyre, as he was bigger and had more reach than Meleys did.

“Traitorous wench!” Aegon yelled out as their dragons bit and clawed at each other.

“Funny you say that, nephew!” Rhaenys called back. “Rhaenyra was chosen by your father and you ignored his wishes!”

“Westeros will never accept a woman on the throne, especially a whore like my half-sister!” Aegon bellowed.

“I’d rather serve a whore than a spineless pig!” Rhaenys jabbed at Aegon’s uncontrollable thirst for women, his poor abilities as a warrior, and his plumpness. _That’s probably the only thing that he inherited from Viserys._

Fuming at the insult, Aegon had Sunfyre reach past Meleys and go for Rhaenys. She barely was able to avoid his jaw and thus getting bit, but she had to swing to the opposite side to do so, therefore leaving her seat while still holding on to Meleys’ spines. Before she could readjust herself back on Meleys, Sunfyre managed to spit fire to her.

Rhaenys felt the heat intensity of dragonfire before, but it was directed either at prey or people. When Sunfyre’s flames touched her, it felt as if the ovens in the kitchens had reach hellish levels to the point where the stones would melt. She cried out in pain as the flames touched her, but the only thing that prevented her arm from being a blackened crisp was the armor she wore, which had somewhat melted on her skin.

Hearing her rider’s pain, Meleys decided that enough was enough. What they lacked in power and size, Meleys and Rhaenys compensated with experience and a ferocity that could match Sunfyre’s and even Vhagar’s. Meleys also had a certain cunning that shocked even Rhaenys when she first rode her, as Meleys was able to do certain things with her form that no other dragon could do. She then realized through her bond with Meleys that the red dragon knew what her body was capable of and had thought of ways to utilize every part of it to ensure survival.

So it came as a surprise to both Aegon and Sunfyre when Meleys pushed herself away from the golden dragon and swung her wing across Sunfyre’s head, dazing it long enough for his head to turn away and Meleys to bite onto his neck while one of her legs to latch onto one of Sunfyre’s wings, causing bellows of pain to escape the golden dragon’s mouth as Meleys’ talons and teeth sunk deeper into his flesh. Meleys bit very hard as payback for what they did to her rider.

However, Rhaenys saw that they were losing height in the air rapidly as she kept her burnt arm on Meleys’ spines despite the pain. The dragons could survive a fall to the earth, but their riders couldn’t. Sensing their rapid descent, Meleys broke away while giving Sunfyre’s wing a good tear with talons. Aegon and Rhaenys could hear a sharp ripping sound through his pink membranes and deep into his arm, causing Sunfyre to cry out in pain. Not wanting for Aegon to get out of the duel unscathed, Rhaenys yelled, “DRACARYS!” and Meleys released a stream of dragonfire that flew past Sunfyre’s wounded neck and touching Aegon. She saw for a quick moment that Aegon was much more damaged than she was, as Meleys’ flames had touched the left half of his body, with the armor melted on him, half of his head and silver hair blackened or burnt, and shrilling shrieks coming out of his mouth. Meanwhile, Sunfyre’s wing began to tear off and thus quickening his descent towards the ground.

Deciding to claim her victory and finish off the usurper before more damage could be done, Rhaenys allowed Meleys to grab onto Sunfyre again. She used her jaws to bite onto Sunfyre’s neck and the talons on her feet to sink into Sunfyre’s exposed torso. _Just a few hundred feet more_ , Rhaenys thought. If they could just force Sunfyre and Aegon to the dirt, they could for sure crush Aegon to death. A simple fall had a slight chance of him living and she was not going to let such a small chance endanger Rhaenyra.

But before Rhaenys and Meleys could claim their prize, another roar echoed through the field, this one being louder and more menacing than either Meleys’ or Sunfyre’s. Both Rhaenys and Meleys knew who was coming: Aemond and Vhagar.

 _We have to get out of here!_ Meleys spoke to Rhaenys through their bond.

Agreeing with her dragon and knowing the foolishness of pushing their luck too far, Rhaenys had Meleys let go of Sunfyre and flew back to the Blackwater Bay. Meleys’ superior speed helped them outrun Vhagar, whose massive form with her orange scales glistening against the sun and which Rhaenys could see clearly from the waters of the Bay. To her relief, Vhagar did not give chase and instead landed outside of Rook’s Rest nearby Sunfyre, no doubt Aemond looking after his king and brother.

Rhaenys did not claim to have a strong grasp of military tactics like her nephew Daemon or her husband Corlys “the Sea Snake”, but she could tell that she had done enough damage to the force besieging Rook’s Rest they would have to resort to dragonfire in order to force House Staunton to surrender. But given the increasing fluidity of the war and the fact that an old bird and an older dragon had just bested Aegon and his golden dragon, torching a crownlander house with dragons would be counterproductive and communicate a message contrary to Aegon’s goals. So, the only options that they had left was to continue the siege with the forces that they have or withdraw, but both would set them back considerably as Daemon had secured the riverlands with his seizing of Harrenhal and that the Northmen under Cregan Stark was coming southwards.

For now, time was on their side. _We must hold on and wait for our other allies to arrive,_ Rhaenys thought as Dragonstone came into view and she clutched her burnt arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, Rhaenys (daughter of Aemon) has survived and while Rook's Rest was a stalemate, the blacks still have the Red Queen alive and kicking. You'll see why Aemond and Vhagar were delayed. 
> 
> Only a few stories really captured how violent dragon fights were, so I hope I delivered. And with Rhaenys alive, so many things will be different (snowball effect). I also hope that I wrote Criston well, although his true nature will come to light. 
> 
> I was initially excited about House of the Dragon, but after Dumb & Dumber ruined it and HBO stood on the sidelines... big EFFING no! 
> 
> So far for the cast, I'm thinking of this:
> 
> -Rhaenyra Targaryen: Margot Robbie
> 
> -Daemon Targaryen: Alexander Skarsgard
> 
> -Rhaenys Targaryen: Madeleinie Stowe
> 
> -Corlys Velaryon: William Hurt
> 
> -Helaena Targaryen: Rebecca Ferguson 
> 
> -Cregan Stark: Max Irons
> 
> -Alicent Hightower: Ruth Wilson
> 
> -Aemond Targaryen: Timothee Chalamet 
> 
> -Aegon II Targaryen: Jack Lowden (hated his character Lord Darnley, but I praised Jack's talents)
> 
> -Daeron Targaryen (son of Viserys I): Brenton Thwaites 
> 
> -Baela & Rhaena Targaryen: Maisie Williams (Arya gets to ride a dragon lol) 
> 
> -Otto Hightower: Gary Oldman
> 
> -Criston Cole: Sam Worthington
> 
> -Roderick Dustin: Chris Meloni
> 
> And there will be more I'll come up with. See you next time!


	2. A Turn for the Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys. Hope you all are doing well and are continuing to be safe. I am planning to update this story regularly, but please understand that I have two other stories to work on. Any patience from you all is greatly appreciated. Thanks!

Rhaenyra sat by Rhaenys' bedside while a maester bandaged her arm and gave her milk of the poppy to ease her pain. She saw Meleys land on Dragonstone with Rhaenys on her back, but she was barely holding on to her spines and looked very much in pain. Seeing her melted forearm guards and the cuts on Meleys' red scales, it wasn't hard for Rhaenyra to imagine what had just happened.

"Help her down," Rhaenyra ordered two of her guards. While Rhaenys was still alive, she needed other men to ease her off her dragon. "What happened?"

"It was the usurper," Rhaenys answered while being helped into the castle. "He came upon me with Sunfyre. It was a trap."

Rhaenyra's eyes widened. "A trap?"

"They must've waited around Rook's Rest knowing that we'll respond to Lord Staunton's raven. They came at me with arrows and scorpion bolts before Sunfyre came in," Rhaenys told her.

"And then?" Rhaenyra pressed. "What happened?"

"I was able to do some damage to Sunfyre and to the usurper. Might've killed him as well, if it weren't for Vhagar," Rhaenys answered.

Rhaenyra pressed her lips together, hiding her nervousness at Aemond showing up. "Okay, we can talk more in the castle. Let's get you looked after."

Rhaenyra might have had pressing matters to attend to, but she had to look after her good-mother and aunt. There was some distance between them ever since her great-grandsire arranged that Great Council which saw her father be chosen as the heir and then King. The distance only began to close when Rhaenyra married Laenor, who everyone knew preferred men to women, and Rhaenys decided to help her get through the loveless union. Rhaenyra remembered when Rhaenys had Laenor locked in their chambers so that he could spend some time with his wife, but Rhaenrya had heard rumors of him buggering boys… while they were crying. Plus, Laenor was inclined to join her in bed anyway, so Rhaenyra was content to sit while Laenor crawled under the sheets and fall asleep. _A knight? What a joke. He doesn't even have common courtesy by allowing me to sleep on the bed_ , she scoffed.

"Aunt," Rhaenyra put her hand on hers. "I'm glad you're all right."

Rhaenys sighed. "It could've been worse, Your Grace."

"Please, aunt. You don't need to call me that when it's just," Rhaenyra rubbed her hand while giving a small smile.

"Right, must be the milk of the poppy talking," Rhaenys chuckled. "I should've gone for the kill. I should've been quicker. I should've been—"

Rhaenyra shook her head. "Nonsense, aunt. I'm just glad you're alive, but I'll admit that the war ending sooner would've been nice."

"Thank you niece," Rhaenys said appreciatively. "I had to leave because Vhagar showed up."

"I understand," Rhaenyra bobbed her head. "Meleys may be fast, but she's no match for Visenya's dragon."

"But I'm getting the feeling that their trap didn't work out as planned," Rhaenys narrowed her eyes in thought.

"Well, of course it didn't," Rhaenys replied. "You're still alive, and so is Meleys. We still have one dragon and one good rider on our side."

"That's not it, niece," Rhaenys shook her head. "Before I could make the kill, Vhagar was coming. It was as if she was coming in a hurry."

"Like they were both intending to attack you," Rhaenrya finished.

"Exactly."

Rhaenyra leaned back on her chair, sighing before she felt a mournfulness return and teardrop fall from her eye. While she was glad that her aunt was alive, all of the struggles in the past weeks were coming back to her.

"What's wrong, niece?" Rhaenys eyed her with concern.

Rhaenyra wiped her eyes. "Nothing, aunt."

"No," Rhaenys was not going to let it go despite her condition. "Tell me."

Rhaenyra let out a heavy exhale. "I… I don't think we ever talked about what it felt like to lose children before our time."

Rhaenys knew exactly what she meant. "No, we did not. Does this have to do with Lucerys?"

Rhaenyra closed her eyes. "He came out of my womb and even though I didn't love Laenor, he was still my child."

Rhaenys looked at her empathetically. "I understand the feeling. No matter how I felt about Laenor and his penchant for buggering boys," she shook her head in shame. "He was still my son and it hurt me when he died. The same happened when Laena died giving birth to my granddaughters."

Rhaenyra was also deeply hurt when Laena died. Besides Rhaenys after they got over their differences, Laena was the only comfort she found in her union with Laenor. She was as fierce as a dragon should and understood the joy that came with riding from a dragon. She had to admit that she was jealous of Laena bonding with Vhagar, but that didn't take away from her liking her and her company. In fact, that was probably the first time she got to really know Daemon personally.

"I guess that makes two of us, doesn't it?" Rhaenyra decided to add some levity to an otherwise heavy-laden conversation.

Rhaenys chuckled, obliging her before she turned serious again. "You wanted to be queen, niece. You chose to press your claim even though Aegon was wrong to do so. This is the price you must pay, that we all must pay, in order to see our aspirations come to fruition."

Rhaenyra gulped. "I just never thought that it would be like this."

"No one ever thought it would end up like this, niece," Rhaenys assured. "But there was nothing to stop the fighting when it did start."

Rhaenyra rubbed her temples. "I knew Alicent had larger designs when she married my father and I should've known that Aemond was not going to let his hatred for Lucerys go so easily. I knew that—"

Rhaenys held up her finger. "There are many things that you should've known, niece. But the time is past now. We need to be focused on the affairs of now. Lucerys is dead, and so is one of our dragons. The Lannisters have declared for Aegon, as did my blood, the Baratheons. And the Hightowers declaring for Aegon is causing chaos in the Reach, meaning that the Tyrells cannot be counted on to provide support. We have to fully mobilize the banners of the Vale, the Riverlands, and the North if we are to have a chance."

"I know that," Rhaenya stood up from her chair.

"Please don't say that, niece. Kings, princes, and lords say that excuse whenever the people around them provide them with hard truths and that's just one way for them to avoid having those truths sink in," Rhaenys pointed out.

"Well, there's one truth I'm ready to let sink in," Rhaenyra responded. "Jacaerys will marry one of the Starks, or from what I hear, a bastard daughter. Still, it'll provide us with the union that we need to maintain the connection Queen Alysanne established when she made her travels throughout the North."

"What's important is that the Starks are moving southwards, and they're arriving much faster than anyone could have anticipated. They've crossed the Neck within just two weeks of assembling at Moat Cailin and those loyal to us have seen Lord Cregan's scouts as far south as Fairmarket. They should be able to make it to Harrenhal in good order," Rhaenys hoped.

"That is, if Aemond will let them," Rhaenyra countered.

"With the Starks, we'll be able to improve our numerical advantage against Aegon's followers. They should be in good hands, if what I hear of Cregan Stark is true."

Rhaenyra did hear of Cregan Stark, but only one prior to the Dance. Cregan became the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North at the age of ten and three, when his lord father passed away. During his minority, his uncle Bennard ruled the north as regent. But when Cregan came of age, Bennard refused to relinquish his power, causing Cregan to rise up against his uncle and imprison him and his three sons. Anyone who could do assert their claim on their titles and land at such a young age was not someone to be trifled with, in Rhaenrya's mind. _I might have use for him when this is all over._

Disconcerting for Rhaenyra was what Jacaerys termed the "Pact of Ice and Fire." She knew that they couldn't afford to be selective in who they allied with, but she as well as others knew the political implications of such a union. Queen Alysanne was the only Targaryen who gave significant attention to the Starks and the North, traveling further than any Targaryens did when she visited the Night's Watch. The rest of the south didn't give any regard to the North and to involve them in southern affairs meant inviting a potentially destabilizing force. After all, the northmen followed the Old Gods and kept close to the ways of the First Men, both of which were largely nonexistent south of the Neck. But such considerations would need to be put aside, as the Starks were bringing an army that had largely been untouched by the fighting so far.

Rhaenyra heard the door to Rhaenys' chambers open and saw Corlys Velaryon enter. He was hailed as the greatest seafarer the Seven Kingdoms had ever known. He was as brilliant as he was restless, and as adventurous as he was ambitious. He fought with Daemon in his conquest of the Stepstones and while no one could question the daring and genius of both he and the Lord of the Tides during the campaign, no one could also deny that Daemon and Corlys made many enemies because of that. Alicent Hightower thought him arrogant, but then again, so did a majority of the lords in Westeros whenever they met Targaryens or other people deemed intractable.

Rhaenyra remembered Corlys saying that he was clinging to life "like a drowning sailor clinging to the wreckage of a sunken ship," and she could tell that it was because he still had a wife who loved him. And that was the look in his violet eyes when he ran to Rhaenys' side and clutched her hand.

"Blessed to the gods, you are all right," Corlys kissed Rhaenys' hand before looking at her burnt arm with much concern.

"It's all right, Corlys," Rhaenys put a hand on her husband's face. "Nothing that can't be healed with some herbs and milk of the poppy."

"Good thing you are the blood of the dragon, or it would've worse," Corlys quipped lightly.

Rhaenys let out a laugh. "Of course. I should be riding Meleys before the week is out."

Then, Corlys noticed Rhaenyra and stood up in respect. "Your Grace," he dipped his head.

"It's all right, good-father," Rhaenyra waved off before standing up. "I shall leave you to spend some time with your wife. She has been through quite an ordeal."

"Thank you for being here with her, Your Grace," Corlys gratefully said.

"I'm doing what any good-daughter would do," Rhaenyra answered before walking out of the chambers.

Rhaenyra had to admit that seeing Rhaenys' and Corlys' union was very refreshing from all of the politicking and maneuvering that characterized most of Westeros' marriages. She heard the story of how Rhaenys announced her intention to marry Corlys. Many had been concerned with Corlys' disposition and expected Jaehaerys to not consent to the union. However, those same people also forgot that Jaehaerys married Alysanne against his mother's and Lord Rogar Baratheon's wishes and that Jaehaerys would not deny his family's happiness. In addition, the Velaryons had Valyrian blood and that was needed to maintain the Targaryens' ability to bond with dragons. So combine all of that and the fact that the dragons tending to take what they wished, Rhaenys got what she wanted and it was a set of circumstances Rhaenyra had wished for herself.

Rhaenyra found herself walking to the Chamber of the Painted Table, known throughout Westeros for being the room where Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya planned the Conquest of Westeros. She grew up hearing stories of her ancestors' illustrious history, but seeing the actual article was quite mesmerizing for her. And now, she was to plan another massive campaign within this room and behind the walls of Dragonstone like her ancestors did.

This was also where Rhaenyra spent the last time she was in Daemon's arms. It was when the rest of her council, now called the blacks, had retired to their quarters and just after she had given birth to their newborn daughter, Visenya. The news of Aegon's usurpation caused so much stress to her that she had gone into premature labor. Fortunately, with the help of Geraldys and Daemon, she was able to not only survive the difficult labor, she was able to welcome another healthy babe into the world.

Rhaenyra and Daemon both knew that they would have no time to celebrate the birth, as they had to move fast if they were going to negate Aegon's initial advantage from his usurpation. There was no telling what would happen to the both of them in the meantime, so they would spend as much time as they could in their bed before he had to fly off and Rhaenyra had to direct all of their forces from Dragonstone.

Rhaenyra sat in the chair overlooking Westeros, which coincided with the location of Dragonstone, and smiled as she closed her eyes and took herself back to when Daemon thrust into her.

_The scent of sex filled the room. Of uninhibited, feverish coupling that filled the room with moans, grunts, and screams. Stone tabletop used to position units aligned with her and her younger brother all over Westeros. Starting tomorrow, making sure that all of those green markers would be wiped from the map and replaced with black ones would be their main priority. But for now, they would enjoy each other's embrace._

_While Rhaenyra continued to feel Daemon's back with her roaming hands, her fingers undid his breeches and pushed them down to the ground. Pulling back from their embrace, she looked at him with a fire he knew that her prince had never seen before. "What's going on, Nyra?" She didn't respond as she reached up to his lips and kissed them before kneeling them and taking his tip into her mouth._

_Daemon sucked in a breath as waves of pleasure flowed through his body at Rhaenyra's tongue. There were no words said as he enjoyed his wife and niece pleasuring him. But this time, Daemon closed his eyes as he felt something that had never happened before in their previous coupling. While his core would warm whenever they bedded each other, he felt an inferno bursting on the inside. The desire for his wife had never been as strong as it was now and while he couldn't understand why, he let his instincts take over so that he could enjoy this moment._

_Eventually, Rhaenyra took his length so deep into her mouth that Daemon felt himself shatter into her. Still in a trance, he saw Rhaenyra stand back up before wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing him into another kiss. However, he decided to take control and broke off their kiss to turn her around. Untying the laces of her black gown, he yanked it so hard that he could hear a few tears as her arms were forced out of its sleeves and the fabric pooled around her ankles._

_"Uncle! Be careful with my dresses," Rhaenyra complained._

_"Sorry, Nyra," Daemon apologized before slowly turning her around. Rhaenyra gasped as he kissed across her neck and collarbone. He continued onto her left breast and sucked on her tit, which caused Rhaenyra to let out a few moans. While they would usually go to the bed, they were in Aegon's famed room and Daemon decided to try something different and guided her to the Painted Table._

_"I like this," Rhaenyra managed as Daemon moved to take her other teat into his lips and pressed her against the side of the table. "We should couple in this room more often, uncle. Makes us… try new things more often."_

_"As you wish, niece," Daemon answered. The dragon roared inside Rhaenyra as she reached down to squeeze his cheeks and pulling his face to hers. After kissing some more, he turned her over so her breasts and belly were pressed against the table. He traced her spine with his lips while his hands ran across the smooth skin of her sides. Although not a warrior like his good-mother and or as muscled like his daughter Baela from what he observed, she was as slender like his late beloved Laena and had a larger bosom than her._

_"My prince…" Rhaenyra whispered spreading her legs until her center was bared to him. She was already glistening. Her voice was husky from lust. "Fuck me please. I need it," she begged._

_Daemon grunted in delight but didn't comply immediately, his thirst for her not yet sated. He sucked on her shoulders and her neck like a man who had found a waterfall in the middle of bare mountains. His hands held her hips in a firm grip as she squirmed under his ministrations. He brought her close to climax by sliding his index finger into her entrance while his thumb played with her clit. Before she could peak, he pulled away from her, only to slide his length into her before she could urge him on again. They joined together in one motion, her hips snapped backwards to him to the root. Her screams were loud and obscene and he wanted to hear more of them._

_Daemon's hand twisted in Rhaenyra's silver locks, pulling it so that her neck and back arched in response while bent over on the Painted Table. She increased the tempo of her hips and the famed room filled with the sounds of the slaps of his hips against her ass. She was trying to loosen him first, as she knew what taking her in this way did to him. He abandoned his grip on her hair and pressed her upper body further against the table._

_Rhaenyra stretched out her arms and reached for behind, her fingers reaching behind and briefly played with his sack before they rubbed the nub above her center. He slowed his thrusts, letting her focus on both tempos. She didn't last long, crying out as she neared the edge._

_Daemon took his cock out of her entrance, rolled her hips, and got Rhaenyra on her back. The table might have made their coupling a little more difficult to do, but such was the desire for each other that they ignored such a minor inconvenience. Even the bed would have done little to muffle their cries and he knew that anyone outside of their door had in all likelihood heard their screams._

_Rhaenyra pulled her knee up, the other leg straight, her torso twisted as she stared at him. Daemon growled at the sight of her, and the feel of her was too much. He couldn't decide where to put his hands. Her breasts looked enticing, swaying in response to their motions, but he couldn't maintain his balance if he grabbed them. Her ass looked incredible too but he settled for a slap that turned it pink. One hand gripped her hips and the other pulled on her shoulder while he re-sheathed into her entrance. He continued the fast and intense pace before he changed their positions. Her whining encouraged him onward._

_"Cum in me, uncle," Rhaenyra's voice was loud, breathless and wanton. Sweat made her back glisten as they both plunged over the edge._

_"Fuck!" Daemon exclaimed, burying himself into her until he could feel the end of her cunt. His seed shot out with such intensity that there were black spots in his vision. Freezing momentarily from their peak, he collapsed onto her before pulling both of them on the table and staring up at the ceiling as they laid there._

_Both took a few moments to process their lovemaking, which was outstanding compared to the other times. Daemon could hear Rhaenyra's shallow breathing while he felt his eyes stop blinking, his mind in a haze as the pleasure surged through him._

_"How was that?" Daemon asked, getting to his senses._

_"Amazing, uncle," Rhaenyra answered. "That was much better than the other times, and that's saying a lot since every time felt like the first."_

_Daemon chuckled. "I'm glad I could still make you feel like that after nine years. Maybe we could have another babe on the way?" He rubbed his hand on her blly._

_Rhaenyra put her hand on his. "Maybe, but it's too soon. I just gave birth to our newest only a few days ago._

_"Who knows when we'll have another chance? Could be moons or years since we are in each other's arms again," Daemon explained. That got him a hard slap on the shoulder from her. "Ow."_

_"Don't say that, Daemon," Rhaenyra groaned in slight annoyance. "We will be together again and we shall make another. That you can count on."_

_"It's a hard fight ahead, niece," Daemon turned to Rhaenyra befor he ran his hand along her hair. "I will see you when I can, but know that I will do everything in my power to make sure that no one fucks with us again."_

_Rhaenyra brought him into a deep kiss. "I know you will. But promise me that you will come back alive. We will do this again."_

_"All right," Daemon quickly agreed, their conversation touching upon the current happenings in Westeros and he wanted to not think on such affairs at the moment. Getting up from the table, he helped up his niece and queen dress up before picking her up and placing her on the mattress in their chambers before joining her. He covered them both in the sheets before they both passed into the warm embrace of sleep. The next morning, he flew off Dragonstone on Caraxes, but with a heavy heart._

Rhaenyra opened her eyes, coming out of such a pleasant memory. She had heard that Daemon took Harrenhal and secured the riverlands for her, but such a victory was tempered with Lucerys' death. They also had to deal with rumors that Daemon arranged for the death of Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen by using creatures named Blood and Cheese. She knew it was a lie, as Daemon would never sink so low as to kill children, but it just made things all the more difficult.

Rhaenyra was brought out of her reflecting by Maester Gerardys. Her view on the Citadel was a little dim, especially after Orwyle tried to have her submit to Aegon despite his usurpation and the fact the Citadel was skeptical of her father designating her as the heir. However, Gerardys stuck by her side and proved his loyalty by condemning the usurpers not just out of loyalty to whoever held Dragonstone.

"Your Grace, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Gerardys apologized.

"It's quite all right," Rhaenyra accepted.

"Your Grace, a woman named Nettles is seeking an audience with you."

That caught Rhaenyra's attention. Her son Jacaerys made a call for those who could tame dragons, promising riches and a knighthood to those who could. The result was four people succeeding in the task, their names being Ulf, Hugh, Addam, and Nettles.  
"Tell her to come in," Rhaenyra gestured Gerardys, who dipped his head and in came the girl with brown skin and brown eyes.

The last two of the dragonseeds Rhaenyra remembered well. Addam was a Velaryon bastard (no one know who exactly was the father), but Nettles... She was merely a little girl of unknown origins.

"Your Grace," Nettles curtseyed.

"Come in, Nettles," the Queen said. Her unassuming appearance betrayed a rather clever mind, who nonetheless tamed a dragon by using a simple yet ingenious technique, taming the great Sheepstealer with offered carcasses, earning his trust and acceptance. "Have a seat," Rhaenyra pointed to the chair across from her.

"This is a surprise, Nettles. I would've expected that you were still practicing on Sheepstealer like I told you to." She might have liked to pet Sheepstealer's snout, but she was scared to ride a dragon. Rhaenyra took pity on the girl, as unlike Ulf and Hugh who acted with such insufferableness after taming Vermithor and Silverwing, Nettles was the only one being truly honest with herself, as she had no idea what she was doing. "Are you having difficulty again? I assumed my son was also giving you lessons?" Rhaenyra helped her on Sheepstealer and gave her some tips on how to ride, as demonstrated by taking her on a ride with Syrax. With the war taking her attention, her son took over said lessons.

"I have a confession to make, Your Grace," Nettles was trying to look at her properly, but was having a hard time to do so.

The Queen blinked. "What sort of confession?"

Nettles gulped before continuing. "I have been with His Grace Prince Jacaerys since he made the call."

"In what way?" Rhaenyra asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I… have been in his bed," Nettles admitted.

That was unexpected. "And?" Now that she mentioned it, Rhaenyra did notice something familiar with Nettles.

"I missed my moon blood," Nettles displayed more hesitation.

Rhaenyra rested her forehead in her right hand, not needing her to finish. "Jacky, you fool… you married Sara Snow and you did this?" she whispered to herself. It was obvious that the dark-skinned smallfolk girl caught Jacaerys' attention, more than

Rhaenyra would've liked. Still, she assumed he had more sense.  
"Are you going to hurt me, Your Grace?" Nettles asked with worry.

Rhaenyra calmed herself down before looking at Nettles. "Don't worry. It's not you that I'm angry with. It's my son for not being careful."

Nettles let out a tear from her eye. "I knew that he was already married, but I still did it anyway. I was so foolish."

"Shhh," Rhaenyra comforted her. "I won't harm you. Jacaerys is still my son and I have a responsibility to whatever children he might father, even though he fathered a bastard."

The name struck deep in Nettles. "But don't worry. As that babe of yours is carrying my blood, I shall that he's well taken care of. You have my word."  
Nettles got up from her chair and kneeled. "Thank you for your generosity, Your Grace."

"No, no," Rhaenyra went to her and pulled her up. "Don't do that. Just continue training with Sheepstealer and stay here until the time comes when I need you. Can you do that?" Nettles nodded. "Good. Off you go now."

Rhaenyra watched as Nettles left the room, keeping a smile on her face, until she left and the smile disappeared. _Jacky, when you come back from fighting the Triarchy, I will have words with you. You stupid shit!_

Gerardys returned to the room, alarm all over his face. "What is it?" Rhaenyra asked with concern.

"I have news from Driftmark, Your Grace. The Triarchy fleet that kidnapped Prince Viserys, it's been damaged."

"That's good news, isn't it? But what about my son?" Rhaenyra pressed.

Gerardys braced himself. "Jacaerys has been killed, Spicetown has been sacked, and our fleet damaged."

Rhaenyra's breathing stopped. _My son dead?_ She sunk back into her chair, tears returning to her eyes. She didn't think about the ramifications of her fleet being damaged or that her good-father's lands were burned. No, she thought about having to lose another son in this wretched war. The thoughts becoming too much for her, she fainted, causing Gerardys to rush to her side while she was brought back to a rather unpleasant memory before this whole mess occurred.

_"I'm pregnant."_

_At first Rhaenyra's words seemed to barely register with Criston. Any person who did not know him as well as she did would have spoken again, louder that time and with obvious frustration. Rhaenyra did know him, however, and so was far more patient as he took the time to run his hands through his hair._

_"That's great news, isn't it?" Criston smiled while he looked at her lustfully._

_Rhaenyra sighed. "People are already talking and I've got more to worry about given my sons don't have the silver hair and violet eyes that I do."_

_"Hmm," Criston said. It was all he said, those eyes of his staring into her. "You have to admit that every time we couple, it's more than what your buggerer husband would never do. Why have a cock if he won't aim it to the right person?"_

_Rhaenyra chuckled, having grown accustomed to such comments at her Velaryon's husband predilection for the same gender at his expense. However, she might've enjoyed his company since she was but a girl, but she knew that she had to tell him now._

_"You're not going to be a part of his life," Rhaenyra said. Cole looked at her, confused. "I just wanted to tell you now, to avoid surprises."_

_"I've accepted that, Nyra," Cole sat up. "No one can know that I am the father of your supposed Velaryon sons."_

_"Don't say it aloud," Rhaenyra scolded. Criston chuckled and shook his head. Rhaenyra might've been charmed with his cockiness, but she was a woman grown and she didn't view him with such eagerness. "We can't see each other again."_

_That shocked Criston. "What?"_

_"I will have more than my share of people calling me a whore after seeing my next son without the Valyrian traits," Rhaenyra explained coldly. "It was fun while it lasted, but no more."_

_Criston stood up from the bed. "Who are you to say such a thing? I've known you since you were a girl."_

_"Yes, when I was a princess," Rhaenyra corrected him. "But I am now Princess of Dragonstone and I've got other matters to attend to that don't involve our couplings."_

_"You say that after you are pregnant with our child? What kind of woman does that?"_

_"A woman who now has to take responsibility for the realm," Rhaenyra answered._

_"You think I'm that easy to get rid off, Nyra?" Criston was not going to let her get rid him of easily._

_"Don't call me that. And yes. I outrank you and I've already sent a raven to my father that you are returning to King's Landing. He has need of your services there."_

_Criston walked closer to her as she dressed. "Come on, Nyra. Let's just—"_

_But Rhaenyra pushed him away. "No, we won't discuss this further."_

_Rhaenyra attempted to leave, but Criston grabbed her arm. "No, you go when I say you can go."_

_"Let go of me," Rhaenyra ordered him. Criston refused and pulled her closer, causing him to hit and push against him. He then brought her into a forceful kiss, trying to reignite the feelings that they had when they coupled, while pulling a hand up her skirt._

_Rhaenyra screamed in his mouth before she managed to pull away from him completely and scratch at his face. Criston cried out in pain, putting his hand on the bleeding from the cuts. Seeing what he had almost done, he dressed quickly and left the room. While Criston was still embittered at Rhaenyra abruptly ending their relationship, Rhaenyra was left to lean on the wall, collapse on the floor, bury her face in her knees, and sob._

_The knight who she looked up to, the knight who protected her for years, was now no more, replaced by the name who tried to have his way with her. As she cried, she can only think of how to not let herself be so weak again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I strongly condemn any forms of what Criston tried to do like anyone with decency, and that's what turned me against Shane in the Walking Dead. 
> 
> However, while some things are the same (Lucerys and Jacaerys are dead for example), Jacaerys aka Jacky impregnated Nettles (she won't be Daemon's lover, which is just another smear against the Rogue Prince), baby Visenya lived (which I think was probably spurred Rhaenyra down a darker route), and the Strong knight is not the father of the Velaryon boys (he's just a red herring, while no one would have expected Criston to engage with Rhaenyra since everyone expected him to be the epitome of knighthood, but I call BS on that one since knighthood is no indication of decency, as Meryn Trant and the Mountain proved). 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy my interpretation of the pre-Dance events so far, because as I said, what we know of history behind the Dance was slanted against Rhaenyra because men have weak egos, most of the time. 
> 
> See you next time!


	3. Halt of the Greens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Hope you are all doing well. Been going through some stuff, but I'm holding on. 
> 
> A few things in the Dance will remain the same for now, but things will be different. And it'll be more fleshed out. 

“Well, we can say for certain that the Reach has been secured,” proclaimed Ormund Hightower.

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, my lord,” Lord Peake said. “Lord Rowan eliminated much of our army and we’ll be in no position to move northwards for a few weeks. It’s only because of the actions of Prince Daeron that we were able to maintain an army at all.”

“Quite so, Lord Peake,” Ormund then walked over to Daeron, who was still blackened from when Tessarion dove down and eliminated the Reach host that opposed. “You saved us from the Tarlys, the Beesburys, and the Costaynes. Had you delayed any longer, we would have been wiped out.”

Daeron looked at the ground while clasping his hands behind his back. “I’ve only done as others would have. Also, it would not have been good of me to let my lord cousin suffer at the hands of the enemy while I had a chance to save him.”

Ormund smiled. “A modest man, but your actions were very daring indeed. That is why I decided to knight you and deem you the most daring of us. You deserved it, Your Grace.”

Daeron gave his lord cousin a small smile. “Thank you, Lord Hightower.”

“Now, onto more pressing matters,” Ormund Hightower went to a map table, where Daeron, Lord Peake, and Lord Roxton gathered around. “We still have the advantage over Rhaenyra’s forces. We hold King’s Landing, the stormlands, the westerlands, and the important parts of the Reach. We don’t have to worry about the Tyrells since little Lyonel is a babe and his mother has declared neutrality. With the Lord Paramount staying out of the fight, the Reach is open for us to travel.”

“Lord Hightower, even though we have defeated the Reachmen opposing us, we’re still a great distance away from being able to assist our king. The only way we can move our troops is the roseroad, but the enemy would also know that and therefore, our progress will be monitored. In addition, we lost too many men and we must wait for reinforcements,” Lord Roxton pointed out.

“Adding to our difficulties is the Redwynes,” Lord Peake pointed to the Arbor on the map. “Lord Redwyne might command a large fleet, but as long as Corlys Velaryon is cutting off the Blackwater Bay, he’s not confident in our chances to break through and reinforce King’s Landing. We can’t move through the Tyrell lands, since that would violate their neutrality, and any other way around Highgarden would take too long.”

“Not to mention that Daemon moved quickly on Harrenhal and thus allowing Rhaenyra’s allies in the riverlands to secure that region,” Daeron glided his hand over that part of Westeros on the map. “With the riverlands in their hands, it won’t be long before the Vale and the North can consolidate and then march southwards. In essence, we’re stuck here.”

“I agree with His Grace,” Lord Peake continued to look at the map. “An alternative option we have is marching our forces through my lands and combining our troops with Lord Baratheon’s. From Storm’s End, we can begin our march to King’s Landing.”

Lord Hightower nodded. “That can work, but we must not let the riverlands remain in Rhaenyra’s hands. What actions do the Lannisters propose to strike back?”

“From what I heard, Lord Jason has assembled his banners and have currently crossed into the Riverlands. That should Daemon off balance for the time being and allow us more time to plan our advance to the Blackwater Bay,” Lord Roxton said.

“Don’t be so confident about Lord Jason’s success,” Daeron warned. “He’ll be facing Daemon, who we all know is a tough warrior and highly skilled in strategy and tactics along with commanding years of combat experience. It’s no surprise that Harrenhal fell so quickly. If Lord Jason is not careful, he’ll be turned to ash and the same applies to the rest of us.”

“Come now, Your Grace,” Lord Hightower exclaimed. “You burned our enemies to ash just hours ago. Surely, if the moment arises, you’ll protect us and be able to fight off Daemon.”

Daeron was uncomfortable with his cousin’s overconfidence. They might have won one victory, but there were still more fights ahead and the key leaders on the opposite side were still alive. “Lord Hightower, I might have experience as a dragonrider, but understand this. Based on this map alone, Rhaenyra and Daemon control more territory than we do. Rhaenyra still has Syrax, Daemon still has Caraxes, Rhaenys still has Meleys, and those are not including the ones that Jacaerys managed to obtain.”

“Dragonseeds as they’re called,” Lord Hightower scoffed. “They won’t be of any use to them. They’re inexperienced as riders and therefore will be inconsequential to how this war will be fought.”

“But numbers do count, Lord Hightower!” Daeron emphasized. “From the reports, these dragonseeds were able to bond with three mature dragons, Vermithor, Silverwing, and the one they call Sheepstealer. Do not dismiss them so easily.”

“Okay, Your Grace,” Lord Hightower relented. “What do you suggest we do then?”

Daeron straightened himself out. “I recommend we regroup and refit our forces here. After our army is reformed, then we can begin the march to King’s Landing. If we march like this, our troops will be picked off one by one by Reach lords who might think to declare for Rhaenyra.”

“Thus losing valuable time, Your Grace,” Lord Peake stated.

“We rush forward, we might be of no use to our king,” Daeron answered.

Lord Hightower exhaled before looking at the map some more. “All right, then,” he said conclusively. “We shall wait here and reform our troops. Then, we march to the Baratheons and combine our forces with his.”

Lord Peake and Lord Roxton nodded, while Daeron remained still. _I hope I made the right decision._

Daeron might have learned the knightly manner of war under Ormund and killed while riding Tessarion, but he knew that he was not a military leader. He had only employed the knowledge granted to him by other knights and masters-at-arms, but it was only until now that he realized that real life was much more brutal than he was taught. The realm was split and his family was fighting each other. He very much dreaded the prospect of fighting Baela Targaryen, who rode Moondancer and who he spent much time with when he visited Dragonstone before all of this. _I never told her that I had feelings for her._

Daeron then heard a roar from outside of the tent, as did the others. Recognizing that roar, he walked out and saw the unmistakable form of Vhagar flying towards them. _Aemond…_ But as Vhagar landed next to Tessarion, who was close to their command tent, Daeron noticed that their mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, had also arrived while holding on to Aemond’s back.

Aemond helped Alicent off of Vhagar before readjusting his night-black armor and sword. Calming himself, Daeron walked towards Aemond and their mother. But he noticed that his older brother was wearing their brother and king’s crown, the crown of Aegon the Conqueror. While he had to admit that their ancestor’s crown fit Aemong more than their king, wearing his crown was… strange. _Something’s happened_ , Daeron observed, but given the last time he asked about Aemond’s sapphire eye, he decided that it was wise not to ask any questions since he hated whenever even his own family did that.

“Aemond,” Daeron greeted his brother.

“Daeron,” Aemond coldly addressed him before looking at his brother’s armor. “You’ve got blood on your hands, brother?”

Daeron got used to his brother’s biting remarks. “Our cousin Lord Hightower was almost wiped out before I flew in on Tessarion and burned our enemies out.”

“Hmmm,” Aemond scoffed. “Looks like you’re finally becoming a man now, Daeron,” he added before walking past him without another word.

Alicent was much more warming, as she hugged Daeron tightly. “My son,” she buried her head in the crook of his neck.

Daeron eagerly returned her embrace. “How are you, mother?”

“I’m staying strong, my son,” Alicent looked in his eyes while rubbing her hands through his silver hair and then his blackened armor. “My gods, you are filthy. I’ll give you a bath after Aemond is finished with the council.”

“It’s all right,” Daeron tried to brush off his mother’s attention. “I’m not a child anymore.”

“You will always be the youngest to me, my boy,” Alicent kept smiling at him. “Now, come, let’s join your brother.”

Daeron escorted his mother back to the command tent, where he found Aemond already occupied with their Hightower cousin and Lords Peake and Roxton.

“Your Grace,” Lord Hightower walked to Alicent and dipped his head.

“Cousin,” Alicent greeted warmly.

As for Aemond, he ignored Daeron’s presence as the lords outlined the situation for them after Honeywine.

“If I may, Your Grace,” Lord Hightower eyed Aegon the Conqueror’s crown on Aemond’s head. “Why are you wearing King Aegon’s crown and why is His Grace not here with you?”

Aemond’s left eye turned to Lord Hightower with such intensity that his shoulders lowered and he slightly cowered under his stare.

“Well, I have news for you all that would affect our cause,” Aemond began. “His Grace had engaged in close combat over Rook’s Rest with the traitor Rhaenys, with their dragons Sunfyre and Meleys being their primary instruments for their duel. After Ser Criston replaced Ser Otto as Hand, he suggested that we set up an ambush for whoever comes to lift the siege of Rook’s Rest. However, Rhaenys inflicted more damage than we thought on our troops and her dragon caused severe injuries on Sunfyre, as well as our king himself.”

Daeron, their Hightower cousin, and Lords Peake and Roxton were stunned. They did not expect Sunfyre, a fearsome dragon, to be bested by Meleys, an older dragon who had taken on years, as well as their king being wounded by an old lay.

“The severity of the king’s injuries are at a point where he cannot carry out his duties without proper assistance,” Aemond continued. “As such, my king and brother has appointed Prince Regent of the Iron Throne and Protector of the Realm.”

“A move that I and the small council wholeheartedly endorse,” Alicent declared.

Daeron hid his nervousness, as did their Hightower cousin. While not a warrior like Aemond, Aegon was much more tolerable and open to advice. Daeron had more to fear from Aemond acting on Aegon’s behalf, as he remembered all the times Aemond tormented him and how obsessed he was in being the best in everything.

For example, Daeron remembered when Aemond sparred with him in Maegor’s Holdfast, which caused Daeron to find a new sparring mate after that.

_Daeron held up his shield while resting his sword on top of it. It was one of the few times their father King Viserys had decided to watch his sons spar, as many in the court were eager to see their future rulers be trained as warriors. Daeron had merely reached his twelfth nameday and barely knew his way around with a blade, only getting tips from Lord Commander Criston Cole and few other members of the Kingsguard. However, Aemond insisted that they train with real blades, as he said, “Actual steel could make a man more quickly than wood.” Understandably, there were more than a few misgivings to Aemond’s wishes, but none dared to voice them aloud._

_Daeron was much more afraid, as Aemond had been trained by their uncle Daemon “the Rogue Prince” before Lord Cole took over after he returned from his duties protecting Rhaenyra. He also saw how Aemond trained in the yard and knew that using steel was not going to end well._

_Nevertheless, Daeron prepared himself as Aemond, not holding a shield, swung his sword downwards on his brother’s shield while he braced himself for such a strong strike. Covering himself with the shield, Daeron used his sword in an attempt to stab at Aemond, only for his older brother to jump back just in time._

_Circling each other, Daeron stood his ground while Aemond ran forward and push-kicked his shield with a force so strong that it knocked Daeron to the dirt. Aemond was relentless, as he used his free hand to push Daeron’s shield away from his torso and swung his sword down again. Narrowly avoiding the sharp edge by rolling onto his shield, Daeron quickly unbuckled his arm from the shield and brought up his sword with both hands._

_Aemond responded by gripping his sword with both hands tightly also and swung it horizontally across Daeron’s. As he was still a small boy, he couldn’t keep his hold on the sword and the blade flew out of his hands. Normally, that would be the end of the spar, but Aemond was not done and he used his shoulder and left sides to push against Daeron, who fell to the ground again. Before Aemond could bring his sword up in the air, he heard their father storm into the yard._

_“ENOUGH!” His attention interrupted, Aemond sheathed his sword while standing straight in front of their father. “Your brother was beaten, but you still were going to continue?!”_

_“Your Grace,” Aemond addressed him. “War is not fair. The enemy will not hesitate to kill him just because he’s a boy. Real battles have men who show no restraint.”_

_“That may be true, but this is the Red Keep and you will show restraint,” Viserys scolded him. “Lord Commander, please escort my son back to his room. I shall have words with him later.”_

_“Yes, Your Grace,” Criston Cole dipped his head before going to Aemond. “Come on, Prince Aemond.” The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard escorted Aemond back to his chambers while Viserys helped Daeron up._

_“Are you all right, son?” Viserys knelt down and examined his face._

_“Yes, father,” Daeron was trying hard to keep it together and not cry._

_“Your brother was wrong to train you like that, Daeron,” Viserys dusted him. “I think I shall find a new teacher for you, someone who can train you how to fight but in a proper manner.”_

_Daeron didn’t know who his father was referring to, but it certainly sounded better than training with Aemond. A few weeks later, Daeron was sent to Oldtown as a squire to Ormund Hightower._

Daeron returned to the current moment in the command tent, but remained fearful of Aemond.

“Why weren’t you there, Your Grace?” Lord Peake asked. “You’re his brother and if you and Vhagar were there at Rook’s Rest, I’m sure you would have made quick work of the traitor and Meleys.”

Aemond narrowed his eye at the Lord of Starpike. “My bastard nephew, Lucerys, might have been handled quickly at Storm’s End after he foolishly tried to have the Baratheons declare for Rhaenyra, but his dragon Arrax caused more wounds on Vhagar than I would have expected. Although smaller than Vhagar, Arrax used his size to keep himself attached to my dragon’s chest, clawing at her scales and her arms before she was able to push him off and bite down hard on his neck. Arrax died as did the bastard, but Vhagar needed to recover at Storm’s End. On the other hand, I used the time Vhagar used to rest to gain the Baratheons firmly on our side. So, you’re welcome.”

While their Hightower cousin and the other two lords couldn’t deny what Aemond had accomplished, Daeron tried very hard to hide his appall at his brother’s actions. While he had no love for Lucerys, he would never stoop so low as to be a kinslayer and considering what Lucerys did to Aemond’s eye, Daeron knew that no one would view his action kindly. Some would whisper behind Aemond’s back about his stooping to kinslaying, but for Daeron, he knew that Aemond killed Lucerys, their nephew, out of spite and the war merely gave him an excuse to settle old scores.

“As much as we welcome your actions, Your Grace,” Lord Roxton started. “We have no way to move our troops to reinforce King’s Landing and our allies in the riverlands.”

Aemond tightened his jaw. “Get the reinforcements you need and we march through Highgarden.”

Daeron looked at him with alarm. “Brother, I strongly recommend not doing that. The Tyrells have declared neutrality and to disrespect that would be to invite potential disloyalty among the ranks. Who will follow us if we won’t respect the wishes of those who stay of the fight?”

“Then we’ll be cowards, brother,” Aemond replied, but with venom lacing the last word that was supposed to lined with affection. “Highgarden is the only place where we can access the roseroad towards King’s Landing. As the lords pointed out, it’ll take too long to move other ways and we cannot rely on the Baratheons at the moment. We must show that we can win on our own strength first.”

“The Tyrells will not take your actions kindly,” Lord Peake warned.

“If it weren’t for House Targaryen, the Tyrells would be still be stewards, so it’s time that they remembered their place,” Aemond spat back. “This is the course we’ll take, but I’ll give you all four days to reform the troops. Dismissed.”

Aemond took his leave, with Lords Hightower, Peake, and Roxton following him out and separating to see to their troops.

Daeron moved to his mother, who remained in the tent. “Mother, I heard about what happened in King’s Landing, regarding my nephew Jaehaerys. Please don’t tell me it’s true.”

Alicent sniffed, the memory of her grandson’s death coming back. “I’m afraid it is, my son.”

“What about Helaena?” Daeron’s thoughts then turned to his sister.

“Do you know why there is no word that describes a mother losing her child?” Alicent’s eyes were watering. “Because no word can describe the pain that comes with seeing your child die before you. Helaena refuses to eat, bathe, or leave her chambers ever since then.”

Daeron sighed, shut his eyes, and shook his head. “My nephew… he was too young.”

Alicent wiped her eyes before she turned fierce. “It was that bastard Daemon. He had two of his creatures come in the night, where they made your sister choose between Jaehaerys and Maelor. It wasn’t enough that they killed Jaehaerys. They stuffed his head in a sack. Daemon killed my grandson, your nephew, out of revenge for Aemond killing Lucerys. He killed a child, my son. A child! I shall rest in peace when Aemond bests and kills Daemon in the sky!”

Daeron hugged his mother tightly. “Shhh,” he calmed her. “We still have dragons and an army. So we still have a chance. Let’s be strong for each other.”

“My sweet boy,” Alicent squeezed his cheeks. “You’re right. Let’s be strong for each other. Now, how about we get you a bath? You need it.”

Daeron eagerly accepted the chance to have his mother’s touch, no matter what others would say. As he sat in the tub while his mother washed his body and hair, he allowed himself to be taken to a more happy time, before their family was fighting each other.

_Daeron rubbed Tessarion’s snout while Baela was nearby with Moondancer. It was during Rhaenyra’s last visit to King’s Landing before the war had started and his father Viserys was still alive. The daughter of Daemon was slim and short of stature, but she was lean and quick on her feet and in her mind. Daeron found it amusing that she wore silver hair as short as a boy's, so it would not whip about her face when she was riding on Moondancer. Although she was wild and willful and more boyish than ladylike, Daeron found it very… refreshing to meet a woman, a dragon no less, like her. When he met her on Dragonstone, he was taken by her dancing, how she handled hawks, and how she rode her dragon. Daeron crossed his arms and smiled in amusement whenever he saw her wrestling with squires in the yard, but became quite irritated when she started to play kissing games with them. What’s the purpose of that, he thought._

_“My dragon is better than yours,” she declared with confidence._

_Daeron turned around. “Excuse me?”_

_“My dragon can fly faster than Tessarion can,” she poked at Daeron._

_He knew that Baela had a tendency to be provocative at times, but he wasn’t just going to let an insult to Tessarion go unanswered. “Oh, yeah? Well, my dragon can outfly yours and has blue scales on it.”_

_“And blue beats green all the time? I don’t think so,” she shook her head._

_“Your dragon is barely the size of a destrier,” he pointed to Moondancer. “Meanwhile, Tessarion is much bigger than yours and she can fight.”_

_“Oh, and all dragons were born big? Silverwing wasn’t born big, and so was Meleys, but everyone feared them. Who knows? Maybe Moondancer will outgrow Tessarion,” she stepped closer to Daeron._

_“By the time she does that, you’d be an old maiden,” he poked back._

_She gasped. “Did you say that I’ll be an old maiden?”_

_He shrugged. “Rhaenys is an old maiden and she still rides Meleys. Same thing could happen to you.”_

_“Take that back, Daeron,” she warned. “I plan to be young forever.”_

_“No,” Daeron refused._

_“Take it back,” Baela stepped closer to Daeron. “I’m warning you.”_

_“No,” he shook his head. She suddenly launched herself on Daeron, who despite more training from the time of that spar with Aemond, found himself again outmatched, this time by someone who was far more graceful and fast._

_Wrestling with each other in front of their dragons, who just watched, Baela rolled Daeron around on the ground before she was above him. Pinning his arms over his head, She then kissed Daeron, who kept his eyes open in surprise._

_She looked at him after she finished the kiss. “Can an old maiden do that, Daeron?”_

_He remained lying on the ground, pleasantly stunned, as Baela went back to petting Moondancer but kept glancing at him._

Daeron silently prayed that this war would be over soon and that he would not be forced to fight the woman he had yet to confess his feelings to.

* * *

Lord Roderick Dustin waited along with his two thousand men on the western shore of the Gods Eye, where he been able to link up with the other riverlords who had declared for Rhaenyra Targaryen. Time was against the northmen who had come this far, however, as their allies south of the Neck had been beaten badly by the forces that had declared for Aegon the Usurper, particularly those sworn to Casterly Rock.

“Lord Roderick,” he felt Lord Forrest come next to him. “How long do you believe we should wait before the men of Casterly Rock come?”

“Not long,” Roderick replied. “And remember, before Lord Cregan arrives, we’re the only force that can oppose Lord Lefford and prevent the forces of the Usurper from advancing to the Gods Eye. We have to buy time, Lord Forrest.”

“Of course, my lord,” Forrest nodded before walking back to the Frey contingent of the army.

Roderick shook his head in dismissal of the Lord of the Twins. Many called him “Fool Frey”, which admittedly was well deserved since how could a minor lord expect to succeed in securing the hand of the realm’s most eligible princess? That added to the riverlords’ disdain of House Frey, who saw them as upstarts and only became relevant to the politics of the region due to their bridge. However, Lord Dustin had to give credit where it was due, since Lord Frey did help the Blackwoods and Daemon Targaryen in taking down the Brackens and thus securing most of the riverlands for Rhaenyra.

For the third time that day, Roderick examined the forces that needed to hold off the army under Lord Lefford. Besides his force of two thousand northmen, who had ridden their shaggy horses and were armed with axes, mauls, spiked maces, and ancient iron swords, there were the forces of the Freys and the forces of the Blackwoods under Robb Rivers, a bastard of Raventree Hall. Lord Forrest brought two hundred knights and six hundred infantry while Lord Rivers brought three hundred Blackwood archers. Barely three thousand men that were fighting for Rhaenyra were about to face with an army that was twice their size, which included the hardened troops of House Crakehall and House Reyne.

However, Lord Dustin knew that his troops, and his allies’, had a few important advantages going for them. Jason Lannister, the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, had been killed while fighting at the Red Fork and the army’s progress had slowed due to the infirmity of their new commander, Humfrey Lefford. In addition, despite winning two battles, the riverlords who had declared for Rhaenyra had inflicted enough damage to the Lannister army that they had fewer numbers than they had started with. Their army was exhausted and battered, which would not help if they were to fight fresh troops.

Lord Dustin also had orders from Lord Stark that he kept from Lord Forrest for the time being, but which he made Robb Rivers privy to. Prior to departing Fairmarket, where Lord Cregan had set up his temporary command before he would push further south, the Lord of Winterfell gave the elderly Lord of Barrowton an important task.

“You are outnumbered, Lord Dustin. But it is imperative that we move as quickly as possible to the Gods Eye if we are to have key roles in the war ahead,” Cregan explained as he kept his eyes on the map.

“What would you have me do, my lord?” Lord Roderick awaited his liege’s commands.

“I hear that the Lord of the Twins and Lord Blackwood’s bastard Robb have marshaled part of what remains of the resistance to the Casterly Rock advance at the western shore of the Gods Eye,” Cregan pointed on the map. “Take two thousand men and ride southwards to meet them. You are to hold them and prevent them from advancing further eastwards at all costs.”

Roderick shifted uncomfortably. “My lord, I’m not sure we can be able to fend off six thousand men with a mere three thousand.”

“Your purpose is not to triumph against them, Lord Roderick.”

“My lord?” Lord Dustin became confused.

“I’ve received a raven from Lord Bigglestone, where he was able to round up what he could along with Lords Chamber and Perryn as well as the Ser Pate, the one who had slain Lord Lannister, south of our allies’ position on the Gods Eye. They also are going to converge with our allies’ troops and thus improve the strength of their force. But there is no guarantee that they can hold them.”

“Which is where I come in,” Roderick finished, understanding his liege’s thinking.

“Yes. With your two thousand men, you are to hold off Lord Lefford and his army long enough for the other riverlords to come in from the south. Meanwhile, I will personally bring a force of five thousand men from Fairmarket as reinforcements to strike at the enemy’s northern flank. This is to ensure that their army is crushed because we cannot afford any intact forces acting on behalf of Aegon,” Cregan outlined.

“Thus, destroying them from east, south, and north,” Roderick moved his fingers on the map to draw out the motions.

“Exactly, my lord,” Cregan nodded.

Roderick had his doubts on the Lord of Winterfell, who had seen only two namedays past twenty and had only just recently asserted his dominion over the North. However, he surprised every northern house with how he dealt with his uncle Bennard, who proved reluctant in relinquishing his regency over the North, and he took authority without resorting to kinslaying. Moreover, he demonstrated the Stark honor by keeping his father’s, the departed Lord Rickon, commitment to support Rhaenyra as the heir as per the agreement with the late King Viserys. More importantly, he demonstrated an understanding of tactics and politics that defied all logic for someone of his age. _Must’ve been necessary, or he wouldn’t have been able to remove his uncle from power,_ thought Lord Roderick.

The Lord of Barrowton complied with his liege’s orders out of respect for his abilities and rode hard from Fairmarket with two thousand men. The journey towards the Gods Eye took only two days, giving the northmen enough time to plan and coordinate with their allies for when they faced Lord Lefford’s army.

Just then, Roderick felt someone running towards him. Turning to his right, he saw a northman approaching him, who he quickly recognized. “Quent?” It was one of his scouts. “What’s wrong, son?”

“The enemy cavalry has come,” Quent breathed out.

Roderick didn’t need to hear more, as he took out his warhorn and blew on it. “Prepare for battle!”

The northmen were quickly brought out of the slumber, as were the Blackwood archers, while Lord Forrest and his Frey men were slower to assemble. However, all got into position as the enemy approached them.

“Lord Frey,” Roderick to the Lord of the Twins. “I would suggest you lead the attack on the enemy’s cavalry. I’ll support your two hundred knights with one hundred cavalry of my own. We must keep their horse occupied while we can focus on their foot.”

Seeking any chance to buttress his reputation that had somewhat grown after Stone Hedge, Lord Frey smiled. “Of course, Lord Roderick. I shall see their horse trampled.” Forrest Frey then rode to his knights and signaled the charge as the westermen cavalry came into view, with one hundred northmen following him.

“That should keep them busy for now,” Roderick remarked to Robb Rivers.

“You think they have a chance against their cavalry?” Robb asked.

“I don’t know, but whatever damage we can do to theirs, it’ll make Lord Lefford rely on his infantry. That’s where I plan to pin my hopes,” Roderick responded.

“I hope it’ll pay off, my lord,” Robb replied.

“It will, son,” Roderick nodded as he watched the carnage unfold before him. Lord Frey and his force of two hundred knights and one hundred mounted northmen that he granted to him battled against the more armored knights of the westerlands. He estimated that there were at least six hundred cavalry facing off their Frey allies and they had them surrounded, but again to his credit, the Frey displayed bravery and swung quickly at the westermen’s swords.

“Into formation!” Roderick planned to use the distraction caused by Lord Forrest to set his plan into motion.

He had observed that the westermen army under Lord Lefford had placed their troops in a solid mass, some eight to twelve men deep from what he could see. This was a formation that would allow for a balance between the pushing power given to the troops and the area of coverage of the enemy’s front line. The enemy infantry would advance together, so that their attack flowed unbroken against their own. Lord Roderick then saw that Lord Lefford’s personal banner, as well as the personal banners of House Swyft and House Reyne, were placed on their right wing, along with what he assumed were their most experienced and deadliest troops. Shifting his gaze towards the left, he assumed that the troops there were the least influential. _They’re going to rely on their right flank._

To combat this, Lord Roderick was going to meet strength with strength. He shifted what was left of his cavalry and most of his infantry to his left flank while the Blackwoods and Freys would comprise the center and right. Their columns were drawn up so as to make them progressively fall towards the shores of the Gods Eye, with the Freys furthest back.

Readying himself and having seen decades of killing, Roderick blew his warhorn and the diagonal formation advanced forward, with the left wing under his personal command.

Robb Rivers prepared his archers before the Blackwoods let loose a volley of arrows onto the westermen. Some landed on their shields while some others hit their marks true, causing some disruption in their tight formations.

Deciding to further surprise their enemy, Roderick turned to the troops. “Double the advance!” The northmen sped up while keeping tight formation, with the left wing progressing further than the rest. Just before they were within striking distance, Roderick blew his horn again, this time sending the northmen into a full-on charge.

The northmen collided into the enemy’s right wing, which already began to buck under the heavier weight by the fresh troops of the North and who had arranged themselves in a larger formation. Roderick stood on his stirrups and used his axe to swing down hard onto an enemy footman’s head. Prompted by their leader, the northmen broke ranks and engaged the westermen on their own initiative, their maces, swords, and axes cutting through or smashing plate armor and chain mail. Soon, the other columns had closed the distance with the enemy as thousands engaged in close combat, turning the field into a brawl of steel spilling blood.   
Careful as to maintain his grip on his horse, Roderick buried his axe into another enemy’s head before moving onto another. He parried another’s thrust with a pike by grappling onto the pike’s shaft with his axe’s head, pushing it away before swinging it diagonally towards his exposed neck, leaving a cavity of flesh and bone next to his shoulder before he fell to the ground.  
Roderick moved through the engagements on his small horse, which wasn’t as powerful as the destriers ridden by the westermen but was more maneuverable. He continued cutting through many other enemy infantry before he came across a knight on horseback with a red sash and the sigil of the Reynes. With his longsword drawn, the knight then attempted to thrust at Roderick before he slid to the right and used his shaft to strike at his face, stunning him. He then used the distraction to move his horse forward that allowed him to go past the Reyne knight and bury his axe in his back, making the knight yell in pain as he fell from his horse. He continued on, not bothering to finish him when others’ trampling would.

Then, Roderick saw what he assumed to be Humfrey Lefford. Although adorned in plate armor, he was not riding his horse or wielding a sword. He was in the middle of a battle and all he was doing was sitting on a litter. _The fool!_ Seizing his chance, he galloped through the collisions on the field and forced his way to the Lefford man.

His horse smashed into the litter, causing those who held to drop and run while Lord Lefford fell on the ground. Dismounting his horse, Roderick walked up to Lord Lefford and readied his axe.

“A commander must fight with his men, but you were only a burden to them,” Roderick said to the wounded Lord of the Golden Tooth. “May the gods have mercy on you.”

“Go to the seven hells, you northern barbarian,” Lord Lefford defiantly responded. Nodding, Roderick swung his axe sideways, which sliced through his neck and his head fell on the ground.

Hearing yells from behind, he turned around and saw an aged man bearing the sigil of House Swyft charging towards him on horseback. _Why did they choose a bantam rooster out of all things?_ But before Roderick can claim another enemy commander, he saw an arrow pierce through the right side of his neck and the Lord of Cornfield fell from his horse, dead. Roderick looked to see where that arrow came from and saw Robb Rivers nodding towards him. Returning the nod, he continued to punch and chop his way into the enemy mass.

Roderick heard horns blaring after he killed more men of the Westerlands, but they did not belong to any of his troops. Then, the enemy’s formations began to collapse, as troops dropped their shields and pikes and began to run past Roderick out of fear. Looking to the north, he saw the banners of House Stark advancing to the battle. _They’ve come, finally._ But sensing more, he turned around and saw more rivermen, possibly the ones that include this Ser Pate. _Just in time._

“Keep going, men!” Roderick shouted. “Capture or kill!”

With the remains of the westermen now surrounded and with at least two of their two commanders fallen, they had no choice but to seek escape into the Gods Eye. Roderick followed them into the lake, as well as other northmen and rivermen who were on their side. Wadding through the water, Roderick continued to smash his axe into many unfortunate chests and heads while others were cut down by blade, axe, or arrow. He also saw that many others were drowning under the weight of their armor, as northmen and rivermen alike began pushing them downwards into the depths.

Having enough, Roderick put down his axe and sat on the shores as the troops continued to capture or kill any enemies they could get their hands on. _One way to start the war for us._

“Enjoying the view, my lord?” Roderick looked up and saw Cregan Stark on horseback along with his personal guard.

Roderick continued sitting. “A great entrance for us northmen, my lord.”

Cregan dismounted his horse while holding Ice in its sheath before sitting besides Lord Roderick. “Things will not get easier from this point on, my lord.”

“I understand,” Roderick nodded. “We still have Aegon, Aemond, and the other usurpers to deal with along with more southward advances. But we still bought our queen time.”

“Indeed we did,” Cregan agreed. “I plan to ride to Harrenhal on the morrow and have words with Prince Daemon if possible. I want you to join me.”

“Meet the Rogue Prince?” Roderick had heard of his exploits and couldn’t help but be impressed, but he knew better than to take stock of stories before seeing them up close.

“I can’t think of no one better, Lord Roderick,” Cregan watched as the battle died down. “While we serve the Queen, they must know that we are not to be pushed around and Daemon can communicate our wishes best as a fellow warrior.”

Roderick sighed before nodding. “All right, Lord Stark. I’ll ride with you to Harrenhal. But make no mistake. Just because he’s a Prince doesn’t mean I will talk to him like he’s my better. I’ve been making corpses since that man was a boy.”

Cregan smirked. “I’d expect nothing less.” He stood up while Roderick followed. “Now, let’s clean up here,” he referred to the remaining westermen who were being pulled from the lake in chains.

The northerners had finally made it south in time for the war, and Roderick can say to his son that he had a part to play. _Better than waiting around for the long winter,_ he mused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The battle was based on Leuctra (371 BC), the battle that began the shattering of Sparta's power in Greece. Roderick Dustin is still the old badass in canon, and we will definitely see more of him, and of course, this is only the beginning of Cregan's involvement in the Dance. 
> 
> I hope I got the personalities down well for Aemond, Alicent, and Daeron, the relationship betwen the two healthy brothers very strained even though Daeron won a victory. And I added backstory for Daeron, which includes Aemond beating the crap out of him and that Daeron had feelings for Baela (more on that later). The more I thought about it, there is no one better for each other from what I read. Daeron was the good one and Baela's canon husband was not good enough of. 
> 
> Things are picking up for the Dance this time around.


	4. Moving on the Center

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are still doing well. Been occupied with some other stuff, but I am still trying to update regularly.

Rhaenyra was seated at the head of the Painted Table, with her trusted commanders and councilors save for Daemon all present. Rhaenys, Corlys Velaryon, Bartimos Celtigar, and Maester Gerardys all sat around her alongside Ser Lorent Marbrand, the Lord Commander of her Queensguard after the late Lord Darklyn died trying to tame Seasmoke after Jacaerys called for more dragonriders, and two new guests, Medrick and Torrhen Manderly.

She had heard of what Jacaerys promised to Lord Desmond Manderly in return for his house’s support for her cause, a betrothal between his line and the line of the dragon, as what was supposed to happen with Viserra Targaryen. As was the case for Jacaerys, she had feared that her son, her dearly departed son, was giving too much on her behalf. However, they were not in a position to be selective with their allies and she accepted the betrothal between her son Joffrey and Lord Desmond’s youngest daughter.

Looking upon their northern guests, Rhaenyra had heard tell of the fearsome reputation of Ser Medrick and the good remarks people had said of his brother Ser Torrhen. While Ser Medrick met expectations when he sparred in Dragonstone’s training yard with Ulf and Hugh and beat both of them, she was initially unimpressed with Ser Torrhen. But after speaking with the younger Manderly, she began to appreciate how much he understood the scheming between lords and how he behaved himself at her court. _Well, not all northmen are rough in manner,_ thought Rhaenyra.

Besides the Manderly vessels that buttressed Corlys’ fleet, Sers Medrick and Torrhen came to Dragonstone with half of the Manderly’s armed strength, two thousand and five hundred men in total. While it was small compared to what Cregan Stark brought south of the Neck, it certainly helped to see that the northmen were deploying their troops to directly support their queen. _If all turns out well, House Stark will be rewarded for a long time._

“Before we begin,” Rhaenyra addressed her council. “I would like to welcome Ser Medrick and Ser Torrhen Manderly to our first council. It brings comfort to my heart that the North is supporting me against the usurpers and I shall look forward to a long period of cooperation between us.” The Manderly brothers dipped their heads in gratitude. “Also, I would like to congratulate your liege, Lord Cregan Stark, on his victory near the Gods Eye. The elimination of the Lannister force before they could advance further would no doubt improve our situation, so your brethren have done us all a great service.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Ser Torrhen answered. “The credit, however, should go to Lord Roderick Dustin. If it weren’t for his actions in the battle, the outcome would have been quite different.”

Rhaenyra nodded. “Of course. I shall thank Lord Dustin in person when the time comes. Now,” she turned her attention to the rest of her council. “I have received reports that in the midst of the usurpers’ failure to kill my aunt Rhaenys and to take Rook’s Rest, Aemond and Lord Cole have decided to concentrate their focus on striking at my husband’s presence at Harrenhal. However, the reports that I have received have stated that both of them intend to strike at Daemon using troops directly from the garrison at King’s Landing. I trust all of you understand what that means.” Indeed, all of them did as they nodded their heads. “This is a great chance to take the capital and thus remove the usurpers from the Iron Throne itself. I called this council because I would like to hear you all offer your suggestions on how this could be accomplished.”

“First of all, Your Grace,” Ser Medrick began. “These reports that you received, where did you get them from?”

Rhaenyra gestured to Gerardys. “I still have some contacts in the Gold Cloaks, courtesy from His Grace’s Prince Daemon’s time as their Lord Commander, and I could use ravens that only come to me and Her Grace. Despite their attempts to remove Her Grace’s supporters from King’s Landing, we still have those who support her from within the city.”

“But the Gold Cloaks are sworn to whoever sits on the Iron Throne,” Ser Torrhen pointed out. “Could we trust them enough so that they would provide such key information to our queen?”

“Loyalty is a hard thing to come by,” Corlys joined in. “But His Grace Prince Daemon spent his time as Commander of the City Watch well. Practically, all of the officers who wear the gold cloak have served since Prince Daemon. So, we have at least them to count on.”

“Not to mention that Aemond has just been made Prince Regent in Aegon’s place,” Rhaenys added. “We all know Aemond to be the most ill-tempered knave to have walked the Seven Kingdoms.” The council chuckled, with Rhaenyra letting out a wide grin. “With him in charge, it is only a matter of time before discontent spreads among the population in King’s Landing.”

“Looks like we have Her Grace Princess Rhaenys to thank for wounding the usurper so severely,” Bartimos Celtigar remarked. “We wait long enough, Aemond will ruin his brother for us and we can just sweep in and take the Iron Throne without a fight.”

“As tempting as that sounds, my lord,” Rhaenyra said. “It is imperative that we take King’s Landing soon and there is no better time to accomplish that than now. And I wouldn’t be so relieved at Aemond acting on behalf of my traitorous brother. He may be ill tempered, but he’s not as restrained as Aegon and has a great understanding of tactics and strategy. Moreover, he has Vhagar and that already makes his a dangerous threat, thus making Aegon’s followers also dangerous under his leadership.”

“If we could take King’s Landing and also hold onto the Blackwater Bay with Dragonstone, our position would become nigh unassailable,” Lord Bartimos thought aloud.

“I wouldn’t say unassailable, but the usurpers would think twice before trying to attack us. With the capital in our hands and the Blackwater Bay secure, they would be forced into the position that I was in at the beginning,” Rhaenyra corrected him. “Only… each day that I sit on the Iron Throne, the usurpers’ claims weaken.”

“All right, then,” Corlys leaned forward on the table. “I propose we storm the city. A combined assault from land and sea.”

“Elaborate, Lord Corlys,” Rhaenyra gestured for him to continue.

“Right now, we have the advantage at sea, since we command the largest fleet closest to King’s Landing,” Corlys put his finger on the Painted Table where the Blackwater Bay was. “However, we won’t have that advantage for long if Lord Redwyne is able to bring his own fleet to bear. So, we must muster all of the ships that we can and charge into the Blackwater Bay towards the harbor. We can land troops on the northern and southern banks of the Blackwater Rush, thus surrounding the city on three sides. With the dragons we have right now, it won’t be long before King’s Landing is ours.”

Rhaenyra pondered on her previous good-father’s plan for a moment. _Sounds simple enough._ But there was one thing that concerned her. “Which dragons do you refer to, Lord Corlys?”

“Besides Syrax and Meleys, we can have Vermithor, Silverwing, Sheepstealer, Seasmoke, and Caraxes fly over the city. Seven dragons in the sky will certainly bring some sense to the traitors,” Corlys grinned.

“With respect, my lord,” Ser Lorent joined in. “You’re forgetting a few vital details before we go forward with your plan.”

“And what would that be, Ser Lorent?” Corlys looked a bit insulted at a knight questioning his orders, but allowed for the Lord Commander of the Queensguard to continue.

“Prince Daemon and Caraxes are still at Harrenhal, most likely coordinating with Lord Cregan Stark and Lord Roderick Dustin as they strengthen our position in the riverlands. We cannot, within reason, ask him to take part in our taking King’s Landing without him leaving Harrenhal and thus our northern support without a royal commander. At the moment, he’s needed there more than he will be at King’s Landing,” Ser Lorent illuminated the Lord of the Tides.

As much as Rhaenyra wanted to be back in Daemon’s arms as quickly as possible, she had to admit that Ser Lorent was right. However, at the same time, she thought about the gold cloaks.

“Ser Lorent, even though you are correct in Daemon being needed in King’s Landing, what about the gold cloaks?” Rhaenys asked. “There is a possibility that they might rise up to support us if he doesn’t participate in the attack.”

“Your Grace,” Ser Lorent addressed her. “Prince Daemon is the best commander that we have, as we all know. However, I must admit that I have concerns regarding Lord Stark. He might have demonstrated skill when he took his family seat back from his conniving uncle, but he has never commanded in battle. Who knows what will happen if he is allowed to independently lead a campaign so far from his home?”

“Watch yourself, Ser Lorent,” Ser Torrhen warned the Lord Commander. “That’s our liege lord you are speaking of. And to correct you, he’s a very able man and knows how to keep his troops in line. He can be trusted to act on behalf of our queen.”

“And I must agree with Princess Rhaenys,” spoke Lord Bartimos. “If Prince Daemon is not present when we move on King’s Landing, the gold cloaks might not side with us if their previous commander is not with us.”

“If Lord Cregan is who you say he is, then he should be fine on his own,” added Lord Corlys. “He can prove his abilities by showing that he can be trusted to act without our close oversight.”

Rhaenyra let out a small smile at the prospect of being reunited with her love, with Rhaenys noticed and grinned back. _We will have such times together, my prince._

“Now, if I may, we must also address another concern,” Ser Lorent rejoined the discussion. “Those who have bonded with the dragons might add to our numbers, but unlike our legitimate riders, they have little experience actually riding dragons and have little combat experience despite their actions against the Triarchy fleet that took Prince Viserys.”

Rhaenyra winced at the mention of her youngest son. She could only imagine what the Triarchy would contemplate in regards to him, and it made her punish herself even more for thinking to separate herself from her son, despite the safety that he might have been in had he made it to Pentos. 

“Not to mention that one such rider is a peasant girl and has not participated in combat at all,” Ser Medrick pointed out. “I hear that she was still training under Prince Jacaerys before he was killed.”

“Ser Medrick, as understandable as your concerns are, but three of those illegitimate riders as you’ve implied are bonded with three of the largest dragons seen in Westeros,” Corlys was close to being enraged at Ser Medrick’s comments, which also indirectly referred to Addam Velaryon. “Would you suggest we leave out our most potent assets just because of who controls them?”

“Lord Corlys,” Rhaenyra stepped in. “I’m sure that Ser Medrick meant no insult regarding Addam. He was only expressing his concern, although I would have chosen more… prudent words to describe our new riders.” Lord Corlys relaxed, still close to stewing but satisfied with his queen and former good-daughter’s answer, while Ser Medrick looked at the floor, silently cursing himself for not being careful. “However, both of you have pointed out the facts. We cannot ignore the uses our new dragons can be, but we must be cautious on how we utilize them. Therefore, I shall have Daemon and myself ride our dragons while Addam, Ulf, and Hugh will accompany us but will not be allowed to participate in direct combat. Daemon and Addam being at my side will be enough to keep Ulf and Hugh at a distance while they can gain some experience watching us from afar.”

Slowly, the council nodded their heads in agreement, while Lord Corlys’ eyes softened at how Rhaenyra was allowing Addam to be at her side. _He might have been family, but I cannot allow him to feel insulted. Why must I do politics with my former good-father?_

“As for Aunt Rhaenys and Nettles, they shall remain here on Dragonstone, with a portion of our fleet and our troops to ensure that the usurpers don’t attempt to assault this fortress,” Rhaenyra continued.

Rhaenys nodded in acceptance. While she had recovered somewhat from her encounter with Aegon on Sunfyre, she needed more time before she could return to flying on Meleys. Regarding Nettles, she needed more time getting adjusted to her new dragon and would also be of more use defending Dragonstone.

Rhaenyra rose up, while her council followed suit. “I want full plan of our assault on King’s Landing before the day is out, my lords. As we all know, time is of the essence, so we must act quickly. Do your duties.” The council filed out of the room before Rhaenyra called out to Rhaenys. “Aunt, can you spare a few moments?”

Corlys clasped her hands before leaving with the others to help plan the storm on King’s Landing.

“Yes, Nyra?”

Rhaenyra smiled at her aunt calling her by her childhood name. “How are you holding up, aunt?”

Rhaenys rubbed her injured arm, which had been wrapped up in white cloth and arranged in a sling. “Better than yesterday, niece. If the gods are willing, I should be riding Meleys before this week is out.”

“Don’t rush it, aunt,” Rhaenyra came to her aunt’s side. “You barely made it out of alive the last time. You’ll do more good for me by being in good health and ensuring that Meleys still has a rider. Besides, with you here, Dragonstone will be secure since no one would want to fight the one whose dragon injured Sunfyre.”

Rhaenys smirked. “Of course. I just wish that I could be involved in the taking of King’s Landing. I’ll have quite the satisfaction entering that wretched city and seeing the look on those who dared to insult me and bring up what my grandsire did thirty years ago.”

Rhaenyra knew what her aunt felt. In fact, it was one of the points of contention between them in the early years of her marriage with Laenor before he died and she took a moment to relive the days immediately following their wedding.

_Rhaenyra walked in the gardens of Dragonstone, hoping to gain some privacy after the ordeals that had come with her marriage to Ser Laenor. Like most at court, she had heard of his predilection towards men rather than women and she did not want to be involved with a person like him. She had also heard worse things about Ser Laenor also, regarding his unusual liking to little boys, and shuddered at the thought of marrying him._

_“I’d thought I would find you here,” Rhaenyra turned around and saw her aunt, now good-mother. “Usually, a wife would remain by her husband’s side in the days immediately following a wedding.”_

_“Well, it appears that I am being a bad wife now,” Rhaenyra jested darkly._

_“Spare me the jests, niece. I can see when a union is not going off on the right foot,” Rhaenys waved off before standing next to her. “It appears you still have your maidenhead.”_

_Knowing the wind of woman her aunt, there was no point in denying it. “Yes, we did not carry through with the bedding.”_

_“As expected,” Rhaenys said, catching Rhaenyra’s attention. “Oh, come now. You really think my son’s proclivities towards the same gender have no basis?”_

_“I don’t mean to offend, aunt, but he could barely get his cock up when we stood bare to each other.”_

_Rhaenys chuckled while shaking her head. “Of course. He becomes impotent when around women. I told this to my lord husband, but he refused to listen. Then, when your father announced your betrothal to him, he started to become enamored with the idea of my blood and his sitting on the Iron Throne. ‘The shortcomings that came with that blasted Great Council are being swept away,’ were his words in a glee that I have not seen in years. No wonder he and Daemon got along so well.”_

_“You would describe your lord husband in such a manner?” Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow._

_“He is the father of my children and I do have a strong bond with him at this moment, but that doesn’t change the fact that my union with Corlys was arranged.”_

_Rhaenyra was shocked. “I thought you wanted to marry Corlys and King Jaehaerys gave his blessing.”_

_Rhaenys shook her head. “That was a necessary cover. I had heard that my grandsire wanted to marry me off to Lord Tyrell in order to strengthen ties with the Reach, but I had no wish to go to Highgarden. So, I decided to offer him a counterproposal by marrying Corlys. Only… he started to like it too much and he never removed his fondness for his Velaryon mother from his heart. Before I knew it, I was rushed off and here I am.”_

_“At least you were able to have a choice,” Rhaenyra pointed out. “My father threatened to disinherit me if I didn’t marry Laenor.”_

_“But it doesn’t change the fact that I couldn’t change my grandsire’s decision without embarrassing Corlys. Life has a funny way of making your urges become your greatest burdens,” Rhaenys stated._

_Rhaenyra let that information sink in. She had never heard about this one significant detail about her aunt, which changed everything she knew about her. It also made her see her aunt in a different light, as she saw her as a woman who could obtain what she wanted. In this case, she got more than what she had bargained for regarding her marriage into the Velaryons._

_“Tell me truthfully,” Rhaenys put her hand on Rhaenyra’s shoulder. “If it weren’t for my cousin, who would you have picked?”_

_Rhaenyra paused. She was hesitant to tell her aunt the truth, but she sensed that this was the moment where their relationship would either strengthen or become more distant. Having been scorned or sought after by many a lord since she was born, she longed to have someone she could trust. She took a breath._

_“If I had to choose… I’d marry Daemon.”_

_Rhaenys nodded, not surprised at her choice. “Even though he’s married to my daughter?”_

_“I’ve had feelings for him since I grew past ten. But he’s happy now with Laena, who is the only companion that I have now. I don’t want to be the reason that their marriage falls apart,” Rhaenyra defended herself._

_“What about the things I hear about you and Ser Criston?”_

_Rhaenyra sighed. “It’s true. I see him as my protector and my sworn shield. Perhaps in another life, I would have considered taking him into my bed. However, this is my life here and now, and if I could choose, I would be with Daemon.”_

_“Despite the fact that he was not discreet in his feelings towards your dead baby brother and how many lords hate him for how he acts around others?” Rhaenys pressed._

_“You think any of the other lords who criticize him are any different?” she pointed out. “Besides, they probably wish they had his balls and at the least, he treats me with genuine decency unlike the others who have designs over me.”_

_“And you think Daemon didn’t have any designs for you when he said those compliments?” Rhaenys was trying to see if her niece and good-daughter was being naïve._

_“At least he knows how to treat a woman well, and Laena does nothing but smile whenever she talks about him,” she answered. “That’s something that I hope for in marriage and I know that I can’t have that with Laenor, no offense to your son.”_

_“None taken,” Rhaenys wasn’t sure if her niece displayed tendencies towards stubbornness or towards flights of fancy. But considering what had just occurred on her wedding night, she didn’t have it in her to crush her hopes._

_“May I ask you something, now that you know?” Rhaenyra asked._

_“Of course.”_

_“If you were in my position, who would you have taken into your bed?”_

_Rhaenys nodded. Just as her good-daughter took a chance with her in revealing that she wanted Daemon and dispelling any deep romantic notions people said she had for Ser Criston, she felt that it was only right that she reciprocate her trust._

_“Before the Council, there was one that I longed to be with. He was not a warrior like the others, but he knew how to have happiness in his life. He knew how to bring joy to others and that made him different, because all of the others were intent on becoming warriors and this one didn’t care. And that’s why I loved him, because despite his appearances, he did have a strength, an uncommon type. And I though to myself, ‘That’s the kind of man that I want to be with.’”_

_“Who was it?” But Rhaenyra somehow figured out who she was talking about._

_Rhaenys gulped. "Your father."_

_Her niece pursed her lips before taking her aunt’s hands and holding them tightly. She then took the initiative and brought her aunt into a hug. Two Targaryens, whether by the gods’ cruelty or a part of their callous plan, united in their being denied of the ones they longed for._

Rhaenyra returned to the present and remembered what she was going to ask of Rhaenys. “Aunt, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Of course. What is it?”

“I need you to look after the girl Nettles while I move on King’s Landing,” Rhaenyra went straight to the point. “She’s not ready to participate in battle, and she’s still struggling with riding Sheepstealer.”

“And you want me to help her?” Rhaenys finished.

She nodded her head. “She’s just a peasant girl that managed to tame one of the largest dragons we have. Unlike Ulf, Hugh, and Addam, she is honest about her current situation and she could be one of the greatest assets on our side with the right training and guidance.”

“And her remaining on Dragonstone will allow for more time for her training while being useful at the same time,” Rhaenys realized.

“I don’t know what I will do with Ulf, Hugh, and Addam, but with Nettles… we have a chance with her,” she hoped.

“A queen helping a peasant girl in a time of war… that should be one for the songs,” Rhaenys smiled. “You’ll be Queen Alysanne reborn.”

Rhaenyra flushed at her aunt’s compliments. “I can only hope to live up to the standards she had set. So, will you help me in this area?”

“I will teach what I can,” Rhaenys agreed. “But if you want her to be a proper dragon rider, one that can ride and fight, you’ll need more help and I don’t think I can provide that.”

“Are you thinking about using Daemon?”

“When the time comes,” Rhaenys added. “Once King’s Landing and Dragonstone are secure, then that’s when Nettles should be taught by Daemon.”

“Sounds acceptable,” Rhaenyra bobbed her head before escorting her aunt out and back to her chambers to recuperate. She then turned to the nursery, where a wet nurse was feeding Visenya.

“Your Grace,” she curtseyed.

“Thank you, Falyse,” Rhaenyra took baby Visenya from her arms. “You can take the rest of the day for yourself. Eat what you want from the kitchen.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Falyse curtseyed again before leaving the nursery. As for Rhaenyra, she smiled as she looked upon the newest addition to her family. Out of all of the things that the gods made her go through, this was one of their kindnesses. Never had she looked upon such a beautiful babe in her arms as she fed from breasts.

“There you go, Visenya,” Rhaenya kept her arms wrapped tightly around her babe. Her babe looked with her violet eyes towards her mother’s own and while she and Daemon’s eyes were the same in color, she could see her father’s strength behind her babe’s. “You are going to be just like your namesake. I can see it already,” she cooed.

As Rhaenyra found a chair to sit down and have an easier time enjoying her new daughter, Visenya lifted up her tiny hand and reached for her mother’s face. Seeing what she was doing, Rhaenyra put her face closer to her finger and then felt her small but warm touch on her cheek.

“You’re so beautiful,” she nearly choked as the tears streamed from her eyes. “If only your father was here to hold you in his arms and see what I see now.” The baby cooed before yawning.

She then put baby Visenya in her crib while continuing to place her hand on her. “You will never be scorned or used like I was. You will be a happy and proper Targaryen princess and I will protect you from those that seek to manipulate you.” As her babe fell deeper into sleep, she looked up to the ceiling. “This, I promise to the gods. And if they shall put my children through the same trials that I went through, then to hells with them.”

* * *

As night fell for the fourteenth time during the seventh moon in the one hundredth and thirtieth year after Aegon’s Conquest, Ser Medrick Manderly and his force of one hundred hid themselves under the cover of darkness near the Iron Gate. They hid all of their armor and their weapons under heavy cloaks in order to reduce the noise they would make as they approached the walls of the capital. Only when they actually entered the city would they reveal themselves to the enemy.

This was indeed the first time that Ser Medrick had seen King’s Landing, as he took a moment to look upon torch-lit ramparts and the silhouette of the Red Keep. He had only heard stories of Maegor’s Holdfast and the various places within the city, but it was another thing entirely to stare upon the place where many of the realm’s important decisions were made. _Pretty soon, I will be able to make my own mark on this place,_ he thought gleefully.

“Ser Medrick,” one of the Manderly men whispered to him. “How long must we wait here?”

“We have to get word from Ser Luthor before we could commence our attack,” Ser Medrick answered. “However, we also cannot reveal our steel until we hear Prince Daemon and the Queen fly over the city and scare the inhabitants with their dragons. Only then can we begin fighting.”

“I hope this works, Ser Medrick,” the man showed his nervousness. If they entered the city too early, the still large garrison that had sworn to Aegon would wipe them out to a man.

Ser Medrick clasped his shoulder. “I hope so too, son.”

As dusk turned to pitch-black darkness and the torches upon the city burned brighter than the day, Ser Medrick became increasingly anxious, as he felt his leg shake and sweat pouring down his forehead. Even though the night hid them, they had to strike fast if they wanted to maintain their advantage because as each moment passed with them doing nothing, the greater the risk to them.

After scanning the walls once more, the Manderly heir saw two men wearing the gold cloaks walking in their direction. Signaling his other men to ready their weapons underneath their cloaks, the disguised northmen waited until the gold cloaks were close enough to their positions. Before they could react, Medrick grabbed one and disarmed him while three others disarmed another. No one saw two men of the City Watch being forced to the ground, as blades were pressed against their throats.

“Wait a moment,” one of the gold cloaks put his hands up. “Are you the northmen that have come to help Queen Rhaenyra?”

Medrick blinked in confusion. “Who’s asking?”

“Ser Symon, member of the City Watch. And this is my companion, Larris. We were sent to find you by Ser Luthor after he got the raven from Maester Gerardys,” the gold cloak explained.

Once Medrick heard that name, he relaxed and sheathed his sword while helping Ser Symon up. The others did the same for the other gold cloak.

“Is it true then? The City Watch will side with our queen when she comes?” Medrick asked.

“Yes. As soon as hers and Daemon’s dragons make themselves known, then we shall secure King’s Landing for the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“All right, then,” Medrick pointed to the walls of King’s Landing. “Lead the way, Ser Symon.”

While still wearing their heavy cloaks, Medrick and the Manderly men followed the two gold cloaks as they made their way through the Iron Gate. Once all had made it past the gate, they readied their weapons as Larris ran off to inform Ser Luthor, while Ser Symon continued to lead them through the dim and empty streets of King’s Landing towards the Red Keep.

“You sure no one will see us as we approach the holdfast?” Medrick asked Ser Symon.

“No one cares,” the gold-cloaked knight responded. “Our ‘king’ has been injured and is not the kind of man we would follow in battle, while his brother is Maegor reborn. Did you know that he nearly beat to death one of our brothers in gold because he looked at his fake eye too long?”

Medrick sighed. He had heard about the uninhibited tendencies of Prince Aemond, who had taken over as Prince Regent of the Iron Throne. And seeing how Ser Symon described the usurper and his brother in such a manner made the Manderly heir more confident that his family, and the rest of the north, had chosen the right side since the realm needed a ruler like Rhaenyra before things got worse. _She might be a woman, but better her than someone who would bring the kingdoms to the brink._

Finally, after much walking through the streets, which perplexed Medrick since he would have expected more people conducting their business at night, they finally reached the approach to the Red Keep. There, they found a few men, Hightowers from their sigils, standing guard and taking notice of their new guests.

“Hold there,” one of the Hightowers held up his hand and approached Ser Symon. “Good ser, who are these men?”

“Reinforcements for our king,” Symon replied.

“You know civilians are not allowed outside of their homes after dark. Why are they out after curfew?”

“As I said, they’ve come to volunteer for our king’s cause,” the gold-cloaked knight replied.

“I need to see their faces,” the Hightower guard ordered.

“I would like to speak with the Lord Otto, if possible. I can vouch for these men,” Symon urged.

“Lord Otto is sleeping, good ser. Don’t you know that most men sleep during this hour?” By now, the Hightower guard became suspicious.

Underneath his cloak, Medrick tightened his hand around the pommel of his sword, awaiting the Hightower to make an ill-advised move. But before both saw what they were about to do, a dragon roar cut through the calm of night. From what the Manderly heir could remember, it wasn’t the roar from Syrax, Vermithor, Silverwing, or Seasmoke. _It must be Caraxes!_

For Ser Symon, who had served under Prince Daemon’s command for many years, he knew Caraxes’ roar anywhere. Joyful at seeing his former commander return, the knight drew his sword and sliced through the Hightower’s exposed belly. Medrick and the rest of the Manderlys threw down their cloaks, revealing their merman sigil and weapons, and made quick work of the other Hightower guards, with Medrick claiming his first kill of the war by decapitating one of them.

“Onward, men!” he ordered as the northmen rushed up the causeway into the Red Keep.

Before the other Hightower guards could react by dropping the barbican’s portcullis, Medrick saw other gold cloaks kill them and kept their way into the Red Keep open. As the northmen made their way into the great castle of the Targaryens, they saw much of the gold cloaks having either killed or subdued the guards that resisted them.

Ser Symon continued to lead the way, but with much less resistance than Medrick was expecting, into Maegor’s Holdfast itself as they passed through another portcullis, the Tower of the Hand, and the Great Hall where the Iron Throne itself was said to be located. But the northman’s concern was not with the throne.

Bursting through the heavy doors, the gold-cloaked knight then turned around to them. “Ser Medrick, the king’s bedchambers on the top of this castle. I would advise you to divide your men to cover more ground, and thus increase your chances of capturing anyone of value, especially the usurper.”

“Understood. Thank you, Ser Symon,” the two shook hands before the gold cloak went outside to join his gold brothers. “All right. I will take twenty men to the king’s bedchambers. The rest of you spread out and detain anyone even looking important. Move!”

As the northmen went their separate ways around the castle, Medrick went to the stairs and upwards towards the top. _If we get Aegon, it’s all over._

* * *

_Aegon laugh boisterously as he fondled with the breasts of one of the servant girls in the Red Keep. It had been days after he had consummated his marriage with his sister Helaena and after being sure that she would carry a son, he found himself some time to pursue the one that served his noon meal. No sooner when he pinched her ass did she smile and Aegon took her into his bed while Helaena was occupied with her courtly duties._

_Even though he didn’t have a form like the warriors in his family, Aegon knew that his status as a prince of the realm was enough to entice any woman looking to enter relations with him. It certainly worked for this servant girl, as they laid bare to each other and he inserted his cock in between her legs. Moans and giggles filled the chamber as he increased the pace of his thrusts._

_"Take a prince's seed, the seed of the dragon, you wench!" Aegon cried out as the servant girl tumbled over the edge, him following her. Gods, it was good to see the bliss in their faces, be they his wife or some random maiden. A sign of his true prowess with a man's proper blade, he thought blissfully. But the deed was done, and he unceremoniously rolled off. "You have my leave to go." The servant girl emerged from the bed, dressed, and curtseyed before leaving his chambers._

_As for Aegon, he remained naked on the bed as Aemond, Daeron, and Helaena entered without announcement. Not caring for his appearance and the sheets, he simply looked at his siblings. “Haven’t you three learned to knock?_

_The embarrassment Daeron felt when he saw his brother act with such impropriety and the disappointment that Aemond didn’t bother to hide paled in comparison to Helaena, who reddened like a fresh apple and her veins bulged at what she was seeing. Fists tightening from anger and embarrassment, his sister-wife turned and stomped away._

_Daeron shook his head before following Helaena out, unable to be in the same room as his pig of a brother. As for Aemond, he crossed his arms. “Is this how you wish to behave, Aegon?”_

_“What do you fucking care, Aemond? Mind your damn business,” Aegon brushed him off._

_Aemond sighed. “You’re right. It’s not my business. Do what you want, but understand this. I will not clean up your mess.”_

_“I won’t ask you,” Aegon spat back. With that, Aemond left without another word._

"Your Grace, wake up!" He heard a voice call out to him.

  
Suddenly, the wonderful image faded away, replaced with a fuzzy haze. "Who is it?" Aegon answered weakly, voice mushy like syrup.

"It's Lord Strong, Your Grace." Aegon blinked, trying to understand in his clouded mind. "The enemy has breached the city and they're moving on the castle." It began to come to him... as did the first aches and stabs of pain. "We don't have time!"

Aegon swallowed some spit down his throat before he closed his eyes again. "Give me… more milk of the poppy," he gritted in pain as he felt his injuries come back.

Groaning in frustration, Larys Strong turned to Ser Willis Fell and Ser Rickard Thorne. “Help the King on his feet and follow me.”

“My lord, what about the queen? The queen mother? The prince and princess?” Ser Willis asked.

“I have someone else getting them out. Just do as I say!” With that order, the two Kingsguard that had sided with Aegon helped their king up and strung his arms over their shoulders. Lord Strong then entered the wardrobe area and pushed the stone that opened the secret entrance to the hidden passages within the walls.

Without saying a word, both of the kingsguards followed the master of whisperers in before getting their king through the opening and Lord Strong moved the stone back in place to hide their point of exit. There wasn’t much room to move, but Lord Strong gestured to the two men with white cloaks and led them on, for they did not know where to go. It was another risk, but Lord Strong could only hope that they would have enough time to get their king out of the city. _If he’s captured, it’s all over._

He led the way through the narrow and dark passages within the walls of Maegor’s Holdfast. They moved as quickly as they could without running. Some sections of their path would not allow one to run because Lord Strong feared they would make too much noise and get attention. He also thought of the kingsguards carrying their incapacitated king and did not want to tire them in case they needed to fight. With a brazier in one hand illuminating the passage in front of them, Lord Strong found the stairs leading down to the lower levels that were difficult to navigate even with someone of his knowledge. _It’s very fortunate I took the time to study these passageways when outside the small council chamber,_ thought Lord Strong

Once they were below the Red Keep in the catacombs, their escape became easier. Now that he felt confident they could escape the city, Lord Strong’s mind trailed to grimmer thoughts. They were going to reach the cart that he had secretly arranged with a smuggler should the occasion arise many miles from King’s Landing towards the rose road, but that did not help ease their anxiety. Even if they could get their king out, their cause would suffer irreparable damage. The gold cloaks had turned on them, northmen had entered the Red Keep, and it wouldn’t be long before the forces loyal to Rhaenyra would take the Iron Throne itself. King’s Landing would be in their hands and Aegon’s supporters would be forced on the defensive.

Trying to get his anxiousness under control, Lord Strong focused on the task at hand and getting out of the city. Finally, he found the passage that would lead them to the woods outside the Lion Gate. The passage was dark and the air was stale, but it was wide enough for them to easily make their way without making noise. But just as the master of whisperers believed they would get out of the city unharmed, he heard the fall of footsteps coming down stone steps that led down to their path on the right. When she halted, his eyes found a blade covered in blood pointing out from the wall and time seemed to stand still.

“Who goes there?” ordered the voice. 

Lord Strong recognized that voice. “Ser Marston. Thank the gods.”

“Lord Strong,” Ser Marston Waters emerged from the tunnel, while carrying a small child on his back.

“Is that Prince Maelor?” Lord Strong asked.

“Yes, my lord. I was able to get him to safety while killing some northmen along the way.”

“But what about Princess Jaehaera and Queen Helaena?”

Ser Marston shook his head.

 _At least we have the son._ “We’re about to head through the Lion Gate and onto the rose road. I have someone who will take us and our king to safety in the Reach. We must hurry.”

“Lead the way, my lord,” Ser Marston urged on as he carefully adjusted Maelor on his back.

They quickly fled down the tunnel towards the Lion Gate. The tunnel ended at a set of stone stairs that led to a wooden hatch that sat deep in the woods outside King’s Landing. The city was very close, but Lord Strong did not see the rose road in sight. Instead, they found themselves near a small stream winding like a snake through the trees. When they snuck through the woods, they found a boy who could not be more than ten years of age standing along the road with two dozen horses or so. It was an odd sight until an old man with white hair and beard emerged from the trees. “Oh, you scared us,” Lord Strong almost had a heart attack.

“Is that… the king?” the smuggler looked at the wounded man with wary.

“Get us away from here, and you shall be rewarded beyond your wildest imaginations,” Lord Strong pulled out a bag of golden dragons. The smuggler took the coin, helped the knights put Aegon and Maelor in the cart, and all drove to the rose road.

As Lord Strong rubbed his king’s forehead as he continued to grit his teeth in pain, he heard not one but five dragons flying above the city. Shaking his head, he could only imagine what would await them if they were to fail. _If Aegon falls, it’ll be my head._

The cart finally reached the rose road and thus began their journey towards their allies further south. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there, we have the fall of King's Landing through surprise and deception. And as I said before, a few things will remain close to canon, but this is an alternate take on the Dance. And with the capital in the hands of the "blacks," the situation will turn south for the "greens." 
> 
> I felt that many things could've been prevented to avoid the Dance and I hope you all didn't mind the backstory for Rhaenys and Viserys in that flashback. As for Rhaenyra, she's a much happier person since Visenya survived being born. 
> 
> The Manderly brothers are making their mark on the realm, and because of that, they shall be remembered. 
> 
> And Aegon was just an idiotic pig while his brother Aemond was the threat and Daeron was decent. I felt that the flashback for Aegon while he is in pain fit his personality, and poor Helaena (thrown in a loveless marriage while her brother-husband didn't even try to hide his trysts). However, he and Maelor, along with Lord Strong, had to escape, for him being alive would work to the advantage of the "blacks" rather than him dead, for Aemond will really show his true colors soon. Also, both Otto and Alicent Hightower were absent from King's Landing unlike in canon, for reasons to be revealed later. 
> 
> See you next time!


	5. The Pieces Shift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you all doing? Been going through some personal problems recently, but I'm managing as best as I can. Also trying not to let them affect my writing. 

Cregan sat at the head of the table in Harrenhal, in what remained of the solar after Aegon the Conqueror burned it to the ground over a hundred years ago. He had expected to see Prince Daemon here, as they had agreed to meet at this once massive fortress and he would surrender control of the army to him. However, Daemon and the rest of the dragons had been busy taking King’s Landing from the usurpers and he had received a raven from Rhaenyra, stating that for the moment, he would be in command of all of her supporters’ armies in the riverlands.

The Lord of Winterfell was grateful for his queen recognizing his loyalty and granting him more responsibilities, meaning that she knew how to reward her allies properly and motivate them to perform better than the last. At the same time, controlling the riverlanders was a challenging task in itself, considering that not all of them had declared for Rhaenyra.

However, Lord Dustin and his men had achieved a major victory at the Gods Eye and the enemy’s advance into the region had been rolled back. With the riverlands largely secure, it was time to go on the offensive. This was the purpose of this meeting.

“The Lannisters have retreated back across the Golden Tooth, but with Lord Jason dead, they will be in no position to assemble another army since the new Lord of Casterly Rock is a boy and his mother acting as his regent,” Lord Manderly jumped right into it.

“However, we must not let our guard down to the west,” Cregan warned. “The Lannisters can still call on tens of thousands of men, which would be a serious threat to our positions here if they can be assembled.”

“Do you suggest we attack the west, my lord?” Lord Dustin inquired.

“No,” Cregan shook his head. “We have neither the men nor the resources to invade and hold whatever we will gain in the west should we invade.”

“Then, do you propose we block off all paths from the west to the riverlands?” Lord Flint looked over the map.

“Exactly my thoughts, Lord Flint. However, the riverlords can provide the manpower to accomplish such a task. I will have task Lords Cerwyn and Hornwood with it. Ask Lord Elmo Tully, Lord Darry, and Lord Mallister to spare some of their men for the task.”

“Yes, my lord,” they both complied.

“Once they’ve blocked off of the paths into and out of the west, we’ll have contained the Lannisters. But now, with King’s Landing in our queen’s control, the fight has shifted further southwards. We still have half of the Reach to contend with, as well as the Baratheons,” Cregan glided his hand over the southern areas of the map of Westeros. “The Hightowers have recently secured the southern Reach for the usurper, meaning that the northern Reach will soon into a war zone, more than it has been so far.”

“And given that Aemond has taken over for his usurper brother in light of his recent injuries at Rook’s Rest, this war is far from over and it will get bloodier if what they say about him is true,” Lord Glover added.

“Precisely,” Cregan nodded. “That is why we must move and put pressure on the usurpers before they bring the full might of the Reach with them. They’re already dangerous with the Hightowers on their side and it’s very likely that Aemond will violate the Tyrells’ neutrality.”

“Would he go so far as to do that?” Lord Manderly asked with some worry.

“War allows for men to do things that no one would ever expect them of doing. And given that King’s Landing has been taken, the usurpers will get desperate,” Cregan answered.

“Should the Tyrells join the usurpers, forced or willingly, that might put more of the Reach within their grasp,” Lord Belthasar Bolton stated.

“That’s a possibility, Lord Bolton,” Cregan said. “At the same time, Lyonel Tyrell is an infant and his mother is ruling in his place. Should Aemond violate their neutrality, it could also motivate some of the northern Reach lords to rise up against him, thus decreasing the Reach’s manpower even further.”

“Also, it would not bode well to the rest of those lot if Aemond forces a woman and a child into war,” Lord Ryswell joined in.

“Whatever the case, much of the important fighting in this war will now shift to the northern Reach. Other likely areas include the Kingswood, but we’ll leave that to our queen and Prince Daemon to handle.” The northern lords present agreed. “We currently have thirty thousand men with us at this moment, so our main duty is to use them all in the most efficient possible when we do move on the northern Reach. We’ll let the riverlords, especially the Blackwoods, be responsible for securing their own lands and keeps.”

“When we do move on the northern Reach, I would suggest using the rose road to our advantage,” Lord Bolton pointed on the map. “It’s probably the only road between Highgarden and King’s Landing and thus the only viable route the usurpers will use should they wish to conduct a counterattack.”

“I agree with Lord Bolton,” Lord Dustin said. “And considering that the rose road starts near King’s Landing, we will have to send men there in order to start preparing for the push into the Reach.”

Cregan bobbed his head in thought. “I will have to consult with Prince Daemon before I do something like that. For now, we will use the areas that touch with the Reach as areas to send out patrols and scouts. If we are to make a successful advance on the Reach when the time comes, we need accurate information on troop strengths, the conditions of the keeps, who are the main commanders, and all the rest.”

The northern lords all nodded in agreement.

“Meanwhile, we will further secure the riverlands for our queen and until Lady Arryn sends more troops. What she sent from Gulltown will not be enough to alter the course of the war,” Cregan added.

“How many have they sent?” Lord Glover asked.

“Five thousand.”

Lord Glover scoffed. “I thought family was supposed to help each other as best as they could. That’s nothing.”

“Which is why I will send a raven to the Eyrie, telling Lady Arryn that I am acting on behalf of Prince Daemon and Her Grace in the riverlands. If she wants her blood to sit on the Iron Throne, she better send more than a paltry five thousand. Anything less than the Knights of the Vale themselves would be a slight upon the sacrifices we’re all making here,” Cregan declared. “I didn’t bring you all just so that the burdens will be on our shoulders alone.”

“And it’s imperative that we return home soon,” Lord Cerwyn said. “We have to see to our crops and our families when winter comes.”

“Exactly,” Cregan nodded. “You all have your orders, my lords. Carry on.”

Cregan paced around the solar as the northern lords filed out, looking at the sky through the broken walls and roof. As the hearth burned, he began to ponder on what was his current situation with the Targaryens.

Jacaerys Velaryon had flown to Winterfell to gain his house’s support against the usurpers who had taken the throne and disrespected Viserys’ wishes. While bound by honor to support the lawful heir to the Iron Throne, Cregan was not going to march south without concessions. He had learned that Lord Manderly had managed to gain a betrothal between his daughter and Joffrey Velaryon in return for the Manderlys marching southwards and that was exactly what the Lord of Winterfell was intent on acquiring.

Although… the Starks had enjoyed a close relationship with the Targaryens decades before the war even started. Queen Alysanne Targaryen had made quite the favorable impression on the North including the hard-faced Alaric Stark, even though Jaehaerys granting the New Gift to the Night’s Watch was not exactly a popular move with the northern lords. Alaric Stark sent an intermediary to King’s Landing and from then on, every Lord of Winterfell followed that tradition in order to keep watch on what occurred in the south.

Even though most northern lords didn’t’ concern themselves with what happened south of the Neck, Cregan had learned from Alaric’s actions and had studied Ellard’s conduct at the Great Council. While he might have agreed with his great-uncle’s reasoning, Cregan thought, _You should have been more observant, uncle. No one was going to choose Rhaenys and Corlys due to the latter’s personality._

More importantly, he had learned very much from how he dealt with his uncle Bennard. Removing him as regent was not an easy task in itself, since half of the Winterfell garrison and Lord Cerwyn had sided with him. Realizing that he needed more men, he secretly contacted Lords Hornwood and Norrey, the latter of which was possible due to his relationship with Arra. _I think of you every day, Arra_ , he reflected heavily and was quickly brought back to when he heard the news that she had died giving birth to Rickon. _You were there with me and I wish you were here now._

Meanwhile, Cregan was able to get the other half of the Winterfell garrison on his side. In the dead of night, his supporters incapacitated their opponents, but he forbade them from killing any since he was not going to stoop to putting to the sword people he knew since childhood. Also, it would have been better to spare them and have them reconfirm their loyalties to the true head of House Stark.

He was also not going to go so low as to kinslaying, Cregan came to an understanding with Bennard and his three cousins after putting them in cells.

_“Uncle, understand this is your fault and I have every right to punish you and your sons however I see fit. At the same time, you are a Stark and therefore, I will not become a kinslayer,” Cregan sat on the other side of iron bars of his cell._

_“So what will you do?” Bennard asked with some worry._

_“In case you’re forgotten, I am the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North. You will address me as ‘my lord,’ not how you treated me for those years,” Cregan reminded him._

_“What do you intend to do with us… my lord?”_

_Cregan nodded, satisfied with his uncle acting properly with him. “Well, to set an example, one of your sons, my cousin, is to travel to Castle Black and become a brother of the Night’s Watch. A Stark must always serve on the Wall.”_

_Bennard closed his eyes, but accepted the punishment. “Who will it be, my lord?”_

_“That’s for you and my cousins to decide. Also, you have an estate at the Long Lake, so I suggest you and the others move there, permanently. I will only allow you to visit Winterfell with my explicit permission or when I call for you.”_

_“My lord, I’ve lived in Winterfell my entire life. This is my home,” Bennard tried to reason with his nephew._

_“It is my home more than yours,” Cregan rebutted. “Besides, I’ve heard that your estate there is quite nice this time of the season. It’s not a total loss, uncle. I will also have one of my other cousins here at Winterfell, but he will be treated as a Stark should.”_

_“A hostage, my lord?”_

_“No,” Cregan shook his head. “Consider it… an opportunity for your other son to express contrition and thus work his way back into my favor. If you accept the terms I offer, I will release you and my cousins out of here. Do you accept, uncle?”_

_Cregan had to make his uncle understand that there were consequences to his actions, but he didn’t want to hurt his family no matter how much justification he had. Bennard also saw that, which made him all the more ashamed of himself for letting himself succumb to his need for power. Nodding his head in resignation, Cregan stood up and ordered the guards to let them out._

_In the end, his cousin Brandon chose to join the Night’s Watch while Elric went with his father to their estate on the Long Lake. As for Benjen, he remained at Winterfell but under watch._

As Cregan reflected on the past four years, he heard someone enter the solar. “My lord.” Turning around, he saw Benjen, who he took with him southwards. While he didn’t fully trust him yet to run Winterfell in his absence, he decided to give him a small command of the army as they marched into the riverlands.

“Benjen,” Cregan acknowledged. “I trust your quarters are to your liking.”

“It’s manageable, considering the state of this place,” Benjen looked around the decrepit solar. “Are we to stay here for the long term?”

“A garrison will be kept here, but it will be large enough in case the enemy attempts to take it from our hands,” Cregan replied. “I’m worried about Aemond flying in with his big dragon, since that could wipe out our men here.”

“With him being his brother’s regent, things will only escalate from here on out,” Benjen said.

“What we all agree on,” Cregan turned around to see his cousin. “As such, we must be aggressive against the enemy while they are still regrouping further south. With King’s Landing in our queen’s hands and the riverlands almost secure, we can start putting pressure on Aemond and all those who sided with him.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“Anything I can help you with, Benjen?” Cregan was curious as to why he was here.

“I heard from Lord Dustin that you intend to march southwards with the army in order to push against the rose road.”

“And?”

“Someone has to keep watch of Harrenhal while you and Prince Daemon are occupied elsewhere.”

Cregan raised an eyebrow. “Why? Are your current duties in the field not to your liking?”

“It’s not that,” Benjen shook his head quickly. “I appreciate you allowing me to command troops in battle, but I feel that my talents would be put to better use in a castle.”

“And you would know about running a castle?” Cregan made his cousin remember what had happened only a few years ago.

Benjen sighed. “All I am asking is a chance with more responsibility. I know that we still have much to make up for, especially with what my father did, but as you said, we’re Starks. And I believe that I can be of better service to you if I were to run the garrison here at Harrenhal.”

“No,” Cregan answered.

“My lord, please—” But Cregan put up his hand to stop him.

“Now that you mention it, I do have an assignment for you, if you want to prove yourself to me.”

Benjen might’ve been disappointed by his lord cousin’s refusal, but this got his attention. “What is it, my lord?”

“I need you to go to Stone Hedge. Robb Rivers is currently working with his lord father in keeping the Brackens’ in line, but I need their bowmen to join me when we go to King’s Landing.”

“And you want me to procure those men for you?”

“Consider it a test in your diplomatic skills. Lord Blackwood might try to keep as much of his men close to him, but we need at least a few of the riverlords to join us in the march, especially the Blackwood archers. I need you to get as much as you can from him.”

Benjen smiled gratefully. “When do I leave for Stone Hedge?”

“In the morning,” Cregan answered. “We will remain here at Harrenhal while we consolidate our positions before marching. You have until then to get the Blackwoods to join us here.”

“Yes, my lord. It shall be done,” and Benjen left the solar eagerly.

Cregan spent the next few moments in the solar reflecting on Jacaerys’ death. _With him dead and Sara Snow not currently carrying a child, the pact is doomed. Alysanne gave me Sarra and Raya before she died and before Jacaerys arrived, so Sarra might be a good way to keep the pact in shape, as much as I don’t like the idea of my daughter being sold off to the Targaryens like a destrier while she’s still an infant. But who?_

Cregan thought about the two other sons of Queen Rhaenyra, the ones who carried the name Targaryen. Aegon was an obvious choice of husband for Sarra, as Viserys was a captive to the Triarchy. However, he had to also assume that other lords had similar ideas to his and thus increasing competition. And no one questioned Aegon the Younger’s Valyrian heritage while the parentage of his queen’s Velaryon sons was in doubt, thus increasing his importance in the Seven Kingdoms.

But who would be the one to marry Sarra would be set aside for the time being. Besides marching to cut the rose road and securing the riverlands, emphasizing the importance of keeping the pact to Rhaenyra was another of Cregan’s priorities. If it was not consummated, then there was no real reason for the northmen to come this far south.

 _Jacaerys, Jacaerys, why did have you to die and complicate things?_ Cregan thought. He dared make those thoughts known to his queen, but no one could deny that he had died in a needless manner. _This whole war is needless, but here we are._

And Cregan was not going to let the Starks lose their chance at advancing further in the realm.

* * *

Daeron flew on Tessarion alongside Aemond and Vhagar as they approached Highgarden with the forces of Ormund Hightower and others from the southern half of the Reach. After Honeywine, all of those south of the Mander who had sided with Rhaenyra were neutralized, thus opening up a path for those who had sided with Aegon to march northwards up the rose road and then to King’s Landing. It took his king and brother a week to travel down the road, accompanied by Lord Strong and two of his Kingsguard, before they could make it to safety to the southern banks of the Mander. Daeron was also relieved that Maelor was able to escape, but became worried for his sister and niece as they were not so lucky. _Why didn’t Lord Strong get them both?_

Finally, Highgarden came into view, as Daeron and Aemond got close while Tessarion and Vhagar let out a collective roar to scare the Tyrell garrison. Their shadows flew over the ancient capital of the Reach, its walls and keeps unchanged as Aegon the Conqueror put one house after the other was burned at the Field of Fire. But fortunately, Highgarden reflected the Reach as a whole: beautiful and plush on the surface, but weak and flimsy deep within. One had to simply burn its briar maze on fire and pelt its walls with enough trebuchet shots in order to bring them and the keeps down. And whatever prompted Garth Gardener to build this castle, he certainly picked a poor location for it, as it could easily be surrounded and thus cut off from any lords that decide to try to relieve it.

Moreover, House Tyrell was not exactly the most powerful house in all of the Reach, especially since they came from a line of stewards, and their lord was still a minor.

Both Daeron and Aemond circled above the castle, as the Hightower banners marched closer. Once they had Highgarden fully encircled, they both landed their dragons in the courtyard, receiving looks of fear and terror amongst the garrison and servants. Stepping down from then, their green Targaryen sigils glistening against the sunlight and their hands on the pommels of their swords, Daeron and Aemond walked to the center of the courtyard as Tessarion and Vhagar flew back up into the air.

“All of you in Highgarden,” Aemond addressed the ones in the courtyard. “Do you recognize me?” They remained silent, but could recognize the crown of Aegon the Conqueror on his head. “Where is your lord at this moment?” Receiving no response, he turned to Vhagar and prompted to roar again while flying very low to the highest roofs of the castle, causing all but Daeron and his brother to jump onto the ground in fear.

A middle-aged lady wearing green gowns and a golden rose pinned next to her left breast emerged out of the main keep. “What’s going on here?” she demanded before her exterior faltered at the sight of the two Targaryen brothers.

“Who might you be?” Aemond commanded.

“Rylene Tyrell, Lady Regent of Highgarden and of the Reach, Your Grace,” she managed while barely managing to hide her uneasiness.

“Ah, yes. Little Lyonel is too young to greet proper royals,” Aemond sneered. “But I have to wonder what happened to the famed hospitality of House Tyrell?”

“Apologies, Your Graces,” Rylene Tyrell was trying very hard to calm herself, especially with two dragons in the air. “If you gave advanced notice to your arrival, we would have prepared suitable accommodations for you.”

“No need to worry yourself over that, Lady Rylene,” Aemond stopped her. “Me and my brother will not take up more time than is unnecessary. But I do ask for bread and salt for ourselves and usage of your solar during our brief sojourn here.”

“Of course,” Rylene complied before she gestured a servant to bring them a plate of bread and a bowl of salt. Putting the salted bread in their mouths, Daeron and Aemond followed Lady Rylene to the lord’s solar, which she was using until her son came of age.

Out of respect for their royal status, she allowed Aemond and Daeron to sit in the lord’s seat while she sat on the other side.

“I must say that I am surprised that Your Graces have arrived here,” Rylene Tyrell began. “It’s been a long time before those of royal blood graced these halls.”

“Drop the pleasantries, Lady Rylene. They unnecessarily use up time and my brother and I have no time to spare,” Aemond rudely interrupted her, which she shrugged off.

“As you wish, Your Grace. What brings you here?”

“I need House Tyrell to declare for my brother as the rightful king upon the Iron Throne,” Aemond went straight to the point.

“As you already know, Your Grace, House Tyrell has declared neutrality. Surely you can understand our position given that our bannermen are split between those following King Aegon and those following Rhaenyra,” Rylene chose her words very carefully, as she knew full well of Aemond’s reputation and didn’t want to risk her house’s survival. 

“No, I don’t understand,” Aemond was not playing dumb. “My ancestor Aegon Targaryen, whose crown I now wear while I act on behalf of my brother,” he pointed to the ruby-encrusted crown of the Conqueror. “Made your family into one of the most powerful in the realm, but he didn’t have to do that since there were others with claims to this castle, certainly stronger ones than that possessed by stewards.”

Rylene swallowed her pride, as Aemond reminded her what her family was prior to the Conquest. “For that, House Tyrell have been loyal servants to House Targaryen for over a hundred years.”

“And now, I want you to return the favor,” Aemond stared hard at her. “However, you are bound by oath to support the king upon the Iron Throne, so it’s only fair that you and House Tyrell answer the call to arms.”

“House Tyrell wants nothing more than to support Aegon as the rightful King and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms,” Rylene said.

“So why don’t you fight with us?” Aemond started to be snippy with the Lady Regent of Higharden.

Rylene gulped. “The northern areas of the Reach are either still deciding who to support or have declared Rhaenyra, with Lord Footly belonging to the latter. The southern half has joined your brother thanks to Lord Hightower. Meanwhile, Highgarden is in the middle. Should we declare for either side, we would be vulnerable to attack and Highgarden will be consumed by dragonfire.”

“And you think we won’t do that, considering that you failed to rally to your king?” Aemond shot back.

“In addition, my son Lyonel is young and I must ensure that the Lord of Highgarden becomes a proper heir and the best way to do that is to raise him without war affecting his development,” Rylene added.

Daeron could certainly sympathize with Lady Rylene’s concern for her son. Even though he was not the father, Maelor was like a son to him, the only one besides Jaehaera who was not old enough to understand what was going on in the family. _I’ve been born too early,_ he thought with sadness. _Sometimes I wish I were still a child, since I won’t be affected by all of this._

“While there are circumstances to explain Lyonel’s situation, the same cannot be extended for you,” Aemond brushed her concerns aside. “As Lady Regent, you are now in control of the Tyrell banners and therefore, you must hand them over to our army. If you’re so concerned about your child becoming a proper lord, perhaps you can be a good example by showing him what loyalty looks like.”

Rylene widened her eyes at his coldness, but it disappeared quickly as she put on a serious face. “So you mean to say—”

“You are forgetting your place, Lady Rylene,” Aemond snapped. “It’s ‘Your Grace.’”

Daeron kept quiet while Aemond was essentially putting a woman down in her own castle, but he was wise to hide his displeasure.

“Your Grace,” Rylene made sure to say, but she was slow to say it. “Do you mean to say that you will not respect our stance of neutrality?”

“In these times, there is no such thing,” Aemond answered. “Everyone must take a side, so you are either with us or against us.”

“And should House Tyrell refused to be forced into a war we don’t believe in?” Rylene chose this moment to show some spine after the amount of disrespect Aemond showed her.

“What do you mean by that?” he leaned forward.

“From the way I see it, Your Grace, this is a family matter. Just like the Great Council twenty years before, the current conflict over the Iron Throne is of little consequence to House Tyrell. We have no stake in this conflict between those who share the same blood,” Rylene declared.

“I must say, I was wondering when you would show some gall,” Aemond leaned back against the chair, impressed. “However, you chose the wrong moment to bring it out into the open.” He stood up, as did Daeron and Rylene. “Follow me, my lady.”

Going to the balcony that overlooked the fields around Highgarden, the three could see the large forces belonging to the Hightowers and other Reach lords who declared for Aegon. In addition, the blue shape of Tessarion and the massive form of Vhagar could be seen flying in the sky.

“If I give the order, Highgarden will burn to the ground and thousands of years of history in the Reach would go up in smoke,” Aemond began his warning. “Most importantly, you and your son will be stuck here as the fires rage, and you shall suffer a most painful death. It’s a fate that had awaited Mern Gardener and his sons at the Field of Fire.”

He turned and then grabbed Rylene very firmly by the shoulders, causing a jolt in her. “But that’s not all I will do. I will burn this castle to the very ground and salt the soil around it, making sure that no more flowers or crops could be grown here. I will tear down the walls and rip the trees and roses from the dirt, root by root. Only after there is nothing left of this wretched fortress will I stop, as this place will serve as a reminder to those who wish to resist the crown.”

“But you don’t wear the crown, Prince Aemond. Your brother does,” Rylene tried to move away from his grasp, but his grip was strong.

“I am his Prince Regent while he recovers from his wounds, wounds he got from battle while displaying bravery against the forces of the usurper.”

Daeron bit back a scoff, knowing what his older brother said was bullshit but also meant to intimidate Lady Tyrell.

“And once nothing remains of this place, I will choose another house to be the Lord Paramount of the Reach, a house who understands the consequences of not rallying to your rightful king and knows how to be loyal. We have no need for houses who are ungrateful and unwilling to fight,” Aemond finished with.

Just then, a small baby walked into the solar, followed closely behind by a wet nurse. Managing to pick him, the wet nurse noticed the Targaryens.

“Your Graces,” she curtseyed, but not before becoming uneasy at Aemond’s sapphire eye.

He stepped closer to the wet nurse before looking at Lyonel. “And who might this be?”

“Lyonel Tyrell, Your Grace,” she kept the infant Lord Paramount tightly in her arms.

Aemond then moved to hold the infant himself, causing anxiety with the wet nurse, Rylene, and Daeron, the latter of whom had only dark thoughts for what his brother intended.

But to their surprise, he was gentle with little Lyonel and gave him a small smile while softly rocking him up and down in his arms. “What a pretty boy,” Aemond remarked. “Just proves that the Tyrells do have attractiveness in their blood.”

Rylene would have accepted the compliment at other times, but all she felt was fear at Aemond holding her only son in his arms. And she couldn’t do anything without stoking his ire.

“It’s a shame that he will have to let go of such innocence soon,” Aemond said with mock sorrow. “He must learn how to kill, how to rule, how to do all of the things that most lords would have to do.”

Rylene gulped.

“It’ll also be a shame if this boy were to die because of the sins of his mother,” Aemond looked to Lady Tyrell. “Do we have an understanding?”

Daeron felt sick to his stomach. While he saw his brother killing Lucerys as an act of spite, Aemond had showed to Lady Rylene that her son was not safe no matter what she tried to do. The dragons might have scared her and the Hightowers might have made her worried, Aemond holding her baby son while issuing his threats proved to them all that she could not protect her family. There was nothing powerful and humiliating than that, and Lady Tyrell had now experienced that.

“I said, do we have an understanding?” Aemond asked again, while he moved one hand to hover over the baby’s mouth. Daeron’s eyes widened. _No! Why are you doing that? Please don’t kill the baby!_

Rylene shook as she nodded her head. “Yes, we have an understanding, Your Grace.”

Finally, Aemond handed baby Lyonel to his mother, who wrapped her arms tightly around him out of fear of what he will do next.

“Gather your banners and place them under the command of Lord Hightower,” Aemond commanded her. “Do that, and you shall be left in peace.” Rylene closed her eyes as she nodded again. “Good. Now leave us. I have matters to discuss with my brother.”

Rylene and the wet nurse left the solar in a hurry, leaving Daeron and Aemond alone. Suddenly, he backhanded his younger brother, so hard that he fell to the ground as he rubbed his cheek.

“You having second thoughts, Daeron?”

He looked up to his older brother, whose one good eye showed fury. “Why did you have to do that? That boy was just a baby and you just said to his mother that she can’t protect her own child.”

“Little Jaehaerys was a baby too! But I didn’t see you shed tears over his death,” Aemond roared.

Daeron got back on his feet in anger, not going to let his brother’s insinuations go further. “That’s because you were too busy getting your long revenge against Lucerys,” he spat. “I heard what had happened. Lord Baratheon forbade you two from fighting and Lucerys was flying away, but you couldn’t let it go. Everyone will not question you killing one of the enemy, but I’m your brother and I know what really happened inside your head as you killed Lucerys. You liked it.”

“Oh, you’re defending a dead bastard now?” Aemond was grinding his teeth.

“I don’t care about Lucerys, but I knew that you killed him to satisfy your own vindictiveness. And you don’t know how hard it was for me to hear about Jaehaerys’ death,” Daeron’s voice trembled as he felt tears fall from his eyes. “I loved that boy and he was one of the few good things to happen to this family. And you know what the worst part of it is? Helaena had to choose between her children. CHOOSE! My heart tears apart at what our sister felt when she had to choose which one of her babes would die.” By now, the tears were falling.

Aemond felt sympathy for his brother and sister, but he put it aside once he remembered his priorities. “Stop crying, Daeron,” he ordered him. “It’s unbecoming of a man and knight to show tears.”

Daeron wiped his tears away while he sniffled, just barely making through the painful memories of Jaehaerys.

“Now is the time to get serious, Daeron,” Aemond continued. “Cregan Stark is securing the riverlands as we speak while our Lannister allies are facing many problems due to the untimely death of Lord Jason.”

“And with Loreon Lannister being like little Lyonel in that they’re both babes, we can’t fully rely on Casterly Rock to mount an effective response to the Starks,” Daeron finished.

“Which is something that must be rectified quickly if we are to take back the advantage,” Aemond sat back down. “Any suggestions, brother?”

“Well, we would need to get the Baratheons to become more active in our cause,” Daeron started. “With the riverlands, Vale, and the north on Rhaenyra’s side, the war has now been pushed to the southern half of Westeros. Our first task to secure what lands we control now in order to develop an effective base from which to launch a counterattack.”

“Go on,” Aemond urged his brother.

“If the Tyrells keep their word, we would have a force that can march up the rose road and through the kingswood to attack King’s Landing in the two-pronged assault. Meanwhile, we need to muster as much of our fleet as we can to sail to the Blackwater Bay and assault Dragonstone.”

“That might be easier said than done,” Aemond pointed out. “With Rhaenys and Meleys still there along with at least one of those dragonseeds, our fleet might face extensive damage. The Triarchy is certainly proof of that.”

That made Daeron remember. “To improve our position, we must have the Triarchy turn over littler Viserys into our custody. That way, we have leverage against Rhaenyra and giving her reason to exercise restraint against us.”

Aemond nodded. “That’s a strong possibility. But she still has one other son to carry on her line, a son who nobody doubts the parentage. Then again, that’s an obstacle to negotiate at another time.”

“Indeed,” Daeron said. “Once Viserys is our custody, our situation might improve. At the same time, we have to get the Lannisters back into the fight in the riverlands. I’m sure that the western lords will want vengeance against the riverlords who killed their lord.”

“If they can find it in them to fight for a babe,” Aemond pointed out. “How do you suggest we accomplish that?”

“Maybe a small council seat,” Daeron suggested.

“Maybe,” Aemond nodded before switching topics. “Daeron, go see to the troops. Tell him that we have the Tyrells on our side and that he should prepare to march by morning.”

“Yes, Aemond,” Daeron turned to leave the solar.

“And Daeron,” he called out to him. “Two things to remember. Never cry in my presence. I know how much you loved Jaehaerys, but don’t show weakness even to me.” Daeron kept looking at this brother. “Second, we must all make decisions and act in ways that are contrary to common decency during war. Surely, you understand that.”

Not getting a response from Daeron, who kept staring at him unconvinced, Aemond said, “Go on.” As he left, he didn’t notice his older brother’s following him out, starting to see doubts in his capabilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe that Cregan Stark is the OG of House Stark during the reign of House Targaryen, since he was able to enact so much change in such a short amount of time in canon. But I'm going to take Cregan's greatness up several notches, since he could have done so much more had he decided to stay south. And indeed, if House Stark was much more involved in the realm and had a responsible AND able head, so many things would have changed. 
> 
> Now, this is where the major changes will start. Cregan was married to Arra Norrey and then to Alysanne Blackwood, but in this story, they're both dead. However, Cregan has an heir in Rickon Stark through Arra and two daughters (Sarra and Raya) through Alysanne, so he just lost two wives. And Cregan being in the south sooner than in canon will lead to many changes for the Dance. Also, his cousin Benjen (son of his uncle Bennard) will also be quite important, with his role being expanded later on. 
> 
> As for Aemond, what he did with baby Lyonel Tyrell was within the realm of possibility for his character. And him forcing House Tyrell to break their neutrality was also within reason, since Aemond doesn't think his actions are overkill. As for Daeron, he's naturally repulsed but he's bound by his loyalty to his brothers, no matter what me may fell about them. 
> 
> As I said, things will diverge from canon, with Rhaenys' survival being the start.


	6. Holding onto the keys of the city

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Hope you are all doing well! Currently in the midst of important processes, but I shall update as regularly as I can.

Rhaenyra sat in the solar of Maegor's Holdfast as she reflected on what had just happened in the last few weeks. Thanks to Daemon arriving on Caraxes and Sers Medrick and Torrhen Manderly infiltrating King's Landing in the dead of night, the City Watch defected to her cause and the capital fell with relatively few casualties. Well, relatively few since an assault of a city of this size would take a larger army and would incur more casualties from a direct assault. By the end of the next day, Corlys' fleets and whatever vessels House Manderly could spare began to dock at the harbor and unload more troops, supplies, and establish a more secure hold on the Blackwater Bay.

 _When I have words with Lord Desmond, I will make sure to properly reward his house for what his sons did,_ she thought.

She thought back on one of the times she had been in this very room, which was when everything had changed for her and when things started to go to shit for her. It was when her father and Alicent both invited her to her solar, while she remained unmarried.

_As her father informed her of his decision to announce her upcoming union to Se Laenor, Rhaenyra decided to let him know of her thoughts. "I don't want to marry him, father."_

_Viserys grew quiet, as his stare became piercing. She did not give her father the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. Instead, she held the stare. Finally, his father looked away while rubbing his forehead._

_"I thought we had discussed this—"_

_"No, we did not," Rhaenyra quickly answered._

_"Quiet, Rhaenyra," Alicent snapped. "He is your father, but he is also your king. Listen to what he said."_

_Rhaenyra grinded her teeth, angry at this schemer getting the nerve to think herself above everyone else. She might have pleased my great-grandsire and gave my father three healthy boys, but how dare she talk to me like this! she though with hidden anger._

_"I had thought you could see, but I guess I must remind you of how unstable your position is, Nyra. I may have designated you my heir, but a marriage with Ser Laenor will strengthen your claim, given that your aunt Rhaenys is his mother. With the blood of the dragon on both sides of your union and in any children that come as a result, your position will become more secure."_

_"And I trust you know that he prefers the company of men and boys over women," Rhaenyra spat back._

_Viserys lost his cool and slammed his hand on the table. "Speak no more of such slander!"_

_"Because it is true?"_

_"Rhaenyra, stop it." Those sharp words came from Alicent. Viserys glanced at his wife. Sensing that it was getting off-topic, he calmed down and exhaled before looking at his eldest child again._

_"Do you realize how difficult it was for me to get you to become my heir? I had to convince many of the high lords, especially the lord paramounts, to give you their support as my heir when I depart from this life. However, I realized almost too late that having their support was insufficient. There is a reason that the Great Council held over ten years ago was so contentious, mainly due to my status as the son of the second son. If we were talking about properly following the traditional laws of succession, Rhaenys would have been crowned with Lord Corlys as her consort since she was the child of Uncle Aemon. However, my grandsire Jaehaerys knew that having a woman designated as heir was unprecedented and thus would lead to much uncertainty for House Targaryen. Given the lords' history of defying those that they deem unfit to sit on the Iron Throne, do you think that families such as the Lannisters or the Tullys would not be above taking drastic measures such as open rebellion like what the Faith Militant had done with Maegor? Blood matters, and by uniting yours and Rhaenys' claims through her son, your position will be ensured."_

_Rhaenyra did not know of these intimate facts, which momentarily shocked her. However, she had also heard of another reason why her father made her the heir. "From what I've heard, that's not the main reason why you made such a decision. Uncle Daemon said something about my brother after he died in the cradle, and you made me your heir out of anger."_

_Alicent scoffed. "It's true that your Uncle Daemon spoke out of turn and exhibited a lack of wisdom regarding your baby brother, but he was always craving the throne. His actions in the Stepstones only proved that he cannot be trusted near power, which was why your father decided to keep him at a distance."_

_Rhaenyra fought the urge to say that Alicent was merely saying those things about Daemon because she simply didn't like him, but Viserys continuing his hard stare at her stopped her. "However these rumors you've heard concerned you, my decision is final. You will marry Laenor and you will take up your seat at Dragonstone, where you two will work to establish your household and getting an heir. At a later date, I intend for a royal procession so that we can show a united front. Don't make me regret making you Princess of Dragonstone."_

_Rhaenyra held her head high. "And if I refuse this betrothal?"_

_Viserys rose to his feet. "You are a woman grown and I will acknowledge that you have the power to decide upon such an action. Realize, however that I have the power to unmake you as my heir. Make no mistake, Nyra. If you challenge me and embarrass our house, then this is no idle threat. I will have you disinherited and banished."_

_Rhaenyra sucked in a breath while Alicent looked smug at her stepdaughter being silenced. Her title was the only thing that offered her protection from the fate that awaited Targaryen princesses in the realm. She nodded, reluctantly accepting her father's decision. "Very well, father."_

_Before she could leave the room, Viserys spoke again. "You allowed things for our house to become complicated before, Nyra." He reminded him of when people started talking of how Daemon took her maidenhood while she remained unwed. "I will not have it happen again. I have decided to announce the wedding to take place within two weeks time. Upon your marriage, you shall depart for Dragonstone and work on ensuring the continuation of our line."_

_Rhaenyra nodded woodenly. Even with a dragon, I'm still powerless, she thought bitterly. "Am I free to leave?"_

_Viserys relaxed, satisfied that his daughter was not going to say anything more in protest. "You may."_

Rhaenyra couldn't blame her father making her do that. He only had the interest of the realm at heart and concern for her position, since many lords were very hesitant in supporting a female heir. And she did have a duty to the Seven Kingdoms, which was what she needed to have if she were to inherit the throne.

However, she had Alicent to blame for what she encouraged her father to do. _She knew what Laenor was and she did it to get me out of court,_ she shook her head. While King's Landing had be taken, the war was far from over and there was still much work to be done.

Later today, she was going to hold another official session at court, where more petitions would be heard and more matters important to the running of the realm would be deliberated upon. Many had been nervous when she held her first as she walked up the steps of the Iron Throne and sat upon it. However, nothing happened while everyone expected her to cut her hand or something of that nature. _Can't escape how people will view my rule, but this is ridiculous. Rumors and gossips are like the poppy of everyone else. They can't live without it,_ she thought dismissively on both. And now, she was going to take what time she could have to think in peace.

The door opened, prompting Rhaenyra to turn her head and smile as Daemon walked through and into the solar. He stood at attention in his gambeson and Dark Sister strapped to his waist, the loyal man he was in front of others, but her man in all else. _My Prince…_ she thought dreamily.

"Your Grace," Daemon decided to keep up the pretense, but with a mischievous grin forming on his face.

"Prince Daemon," she played along. Sharing a chuckle with her, he dropped the act and moved to where she was sitting. She stood up from her seat and hugged him. At that moment, all of the stresses in the world were released from her. _If it weren't for the throne, Daemon will be all I need._

"What's the matter, love?" he asked with concern.

Rhaenyra shook her head as she buried herself in the crook of his neck to escape from the tumultuous thoughts that ran inside her head while he ran a hand up her back. When he realized that his love had let out a few shaky exhales however, he pulled back, one hand still in her hair as he met her tired eyes. She saw her prince and husband in all of the features of his rough perfection, but with worry etched in the handsome lines of his face.

"Rhaenyra?"

She gave him a warm smile, "N-n-nothing my love. Just some thoughts I was having… nothing more."

Seeing that she needed more comforting, Daemon pulled her back to his chest and his hands stroking her hair lovingly. She sighed, feeling the warm touch of the man she had grown to love and was the father of her three children. _Hopefully, we can have one more._

He was kissing her now down her neck stopping at the collar of her gown and growling, "Why is this on?"

Rhaenyra looked at him with surprise. "You want to take me here, now?"

"I've been busy while you've been ruling. Surely we have some time before we have to resume our duties," Daemon was not going to be denied.

She sighed blissfully before laughing and pulling her gown down, first leaving the shoulders and pooling at her feet as her nude form was exposed to him. He smiled, nipping at her lips in between her soft giggles and tickling her ribs until she lay underneath him on the table, flushed and happy. He was beautiful, big violet eyes concerned and loving all at once… _how did I become so lucky with him by my side?_

"I hate seeing you so worried," he kneaded her breast.

She didn't know what to say to that, choosing instead to turn away from the intensity of his gaze. He tilted her chin back though gently leaning closer until she was breathing fast feeling as cornered and frantic as a maid. Meanwhile, she was busy undoing his gambeson, his tunic, his boots, and finally his breeches.

"I mean it, Nyra. We had to risk everything to get this far, but we have each other and we have Visenya with us plus our Aegon and Viserys… I will never let any of you go and I will protect you all even it means my life. You know that, right?"

She blinked. _To think everyone still thinks of him as a cruel man whose only aim is power…_ She pressed her lips to his, eagerly accepting his tongue and stroking his hair through her fingers. The flashes of their little girl in his arms, flowing silver hair and violet eyes while she was laughing freely in those strong and safe arms. Her exhaustion from earlier had been erased, and she smiled against his hungry mouth.

Enjoying the feeling of his hardening length against her thigh, she squeezed his perfect ass, pulling back from the kiss and resting her forehead against his.  
"Of course, my love. It's just that, there are so many things that can happen and being here in King's Landing is not going to make it any easier for us. We've still got Aegon, we've still got Aemond, Daeron, the others—"

She stopped speaking, her lower lip trembling as she bared all of her worries before her husband. For a moment, it felt as if her anxiousness would come back with a great vengeance and ruin the feelings that were running within her as she lay between the table and her husband.

But he had her trapped between the bed and him, his scent made her dizzy, and he kissed each of her eyes and her cheeks while keeping his forehead against hers as he spoke with a warm reassurance only he possessed.

"You're right to be worried about them, but you're wrong if you think that everything will become worse. Our family shall recover from this and we shall win against our usurping relatives."

Rhaenyra trembled, "But how do you know, Daemon. What if—I could have—"

He cut her off with a kiss, "You're not what many say you are, Nyra. And if it's that's all that's on your mind, I'm here. Let me make your burdens mine."

She pressed her cheek on the surface of the table, turning to the side. Before she could look away completely, his hands were on her again, forcing her to look at those piercing amethyst irises that had made many a man tremble.

"You have such perseverance, Nyra. You're the toughest women I've known. You made it this far and you can go farther. You'll make a great queen and I'll be there to keep you up."

She grinned again, only ever allowing Daemon to see her this soft and needy, "You're sure, my prince?"

He hugged her to him tightly then, as if he too was afraid of losing her, afraid that after all they had been through so far the gods were cruel enough to make their happiness a dream. But she hugged him back, stroking every scar on his chest and back with her thumbs. He kissed her temple at the gesture and began whispering to her softly.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life, even more so with Laena."

A happy sob of relief escaped her then and he was pressing her naked form against him, strong arms sliding further down to clit. And then like a storm over the Blackwater Bay set asunder, she was writhing as feelings such as doubt, fear, and grief were all forgotten. She felt only pure requited love from then on.

His arm was like an iron bar across her stomach as she tried to wriggle away from his mouth, the sensation just too much to bear. Her Prince was relentless, feasting on her juices like a man starved driving his tongue inside her and stroking her entrance with a reverence she had only known with him. Her strongest and most devoted of the men she knew.

She pleaded with him to end it, then cried out "Daemon!" to the ceilings and walls as he lapped at her folds, but avoiding the place of pleasure where she ached to be touched. He knew how to unravel her, however. His eyes were that special kind of piercing that sent shivers of arousal shooting through her when he barked at her in that smooth but commanding accent.

"Beg, my Queen."

The sentence was a contradiction in itself, but she was so very lost that she begged. He was the only one she had ever begged for anything from,"I'm begging you Daemon. Please!"

She opened her eyes, looking down to find his eyes dark with passion as he took her core in his mouth and sucked her wetness into his mouth. Rhaenyra cried out in anguish at her deliverance fisting his hair and dragging him up in a fierce kiss that was mingled with the exotic taste of her own arousal as she fluttered and pulsed around air, sated but still achingly empty.

He seemed in need of her warm heat as well, looking at her desperately from above still waiting for permission after all these years she thought fondly… she gave him a teasing smile at his out of character shyness.

"If you don't stick that beautiful cock inside me, my Prince, I will ban you from any further escapades in this solar and in Queens chambers."

He laughed, taking her in his arms and lowering her onto the fat head of his thick appendage slowly, whispering the utter filth that he knew she loved to hear.  
"I seem to remember that you wanted to take me on the floor one time and got you on your hands and knees on another. You'd want it either on a table or on a bed."

Then she was shoved up further against the table, piled onto the wooden surface, forced to take all of him in a sweet stretch that made her gasp against his rough mouth as the table creaked louder than before.

He was kissing her womb now, not moving just simply wrapped up in her warmth muttering against her ear how much he loved her, how he would never hurt her, how perfect she was, how tight she was. Groaning against him she arched, pushing her breasts into his scarred torso urgently.

"Move Daemon… please."

That was all it took for him to slide his length all the way out, waiting just long enough for her to mewl in loss before slamming back into her ferociously. She relished the roughness of each thrust, every stroke reminding her that he was here, alive and well and that he loved her. He was holding himself back she could tell, but with her dragon, she enjoyed waking the dragon in her.

She trailed a hand down to where they were joined, teasing her clit and biting her lip to restrain the moans. He was putting his back into it now hoisting both of her thighs over his shoulders as he plunged deeper than she thought possible. "Gods Daemon!"

He smiled against her neck, rubbing a nipple with his right hand as he sunk his teeth into her neck. She cried out as he marked her again, like what dragons would do once they mated... pushing himself deep inside her with a loud grunt. Rhaenyra screamed the name everyone else called him "ROGUE PRINCE!" to the heavens, convulsing and meeting his eyes in shock as hot liquid spurted from her lover, filling her up and making her moan.

When they were both spent, he rolled her over, reaching for and covering her with his personal cloak before hugging his dragon queen to his chest protectively. He felt her breathing even out and he kissed the silver crown of her head gently, speaking softly as to not disturb her.

"Better, Nyra?"

His lilac eyed queen gazed up at him adoringly and nodded nuzzling her head further into his chest as she traced the many cuts on his chisled torso.

"I do hope that we have another babe, Daemon," Rhaenyra looked at him lovingly.

"So soon?" She knew Daemon was very open to that idea.

"We might have one daughter and thus one more dragon added to our family, but let's try to have another. We certainly don't know what will happen when the war is over and it's best to have as many heirs as we could."

Daemon nodded in agreement. "But before we think about that, we have to talk about Aegon and Viserys."

Rhaenyra sighed in sadness. "He's already been through a lot, Daemon. Saw Stormcloud bleed out in front of him and will now have to live with the fact that he left Viserys to be captured." It still tore at her heart at what both of her sons had endured, more so because she didn't know how her youngest son was faring in captivity, wherever he was. And that was the worst part for her.

"We'll get Viserys back," Daemon promised her. "This isn't the first time I've had to deal with those bastards in the Triarchy. I'll fly over on Caraxes myself and burn them to hells."

"Not until we win." As much as she wanted her son back, there were still many unknown factors to account for. "We have to secure the city and move on my brothers before we move on the Triarchy. Meanwhile, we have to know exactly where our son is and what we can do to get him back."

"If I'm involved, the Triarchy will never negotiate with us," he reminded her. "I've caused them too much humiliation and they hate all dragons, whether it's us or Aegon and Aemond. The one thing that we can take comfort in is that should your brothers ask for Viserys, they'll say no."

"How can you know that for sure?" Rhaenyra was becoming more worried, causing Daemon to kiss her to calm her down.

"Hunt prey long enough, you get a very good understanding of them," Daemon told her. She blinked in confusion, which he expected. "Many knew dragonfire because of Caraxes and I in turn learned very much from those that were burned. While I hate to admit, Viserys is more useful to the Triarchy alive and unspoiled. In addition, they know the consequences should any harm come to our son. He'll be all right for now and they won't give him to the usurpers."

Rhaenyra bobbed her head as she tried to be comforted by her husband's assurances. Just for this moment, the queen fighting for her throne and trying to be what the realm needed was replaced by a mother whose only worry was for her son.

"Let's just… stay in this room a little longer and feel our bodies pressed against each other's," Daemon kissed the top of her head, knowing how much worries she had.

"Yes, let's do that," she appreciated his concerns and forgot about her duties to the Seven Kingdoms for just one more moment.

* * *

Rhaenyra sat on the Iron Throne as she oversaw the next day of petitions. Among those present were the sons of Desmond Manderly, Corlys Velaryon, Bartimos Celtigar, the various officers of the City Watch, Lords Rosby and Stokeworth, Alec Grafton, and a score of other lords from the crownlands, particularly those north of King's Landing and near Dragonstone. Her first session was occupied with confirming her control and permanent resettling in the capital as the legitimate Queen of the Seven Kingdoms while gauging the atmosphere of her supposed allies in court.

Also in attendance, much to her delight, was the fool Mushroom, Aegon, and her remaining Velaryon son Joffrey. Despite the uneasy circumstances of his birth, she loved him very much and wanted him close to her side. From what she had heard from Dragonstone, Mushroom did his best to raise Aegon's spirits after what he had been through, but he said that it would be a while before he could overcome the recent tribulations, if possible. _Whatever the case, I'm glad to have him here with me._

"Your Grace," the court's herald looked through the various pieces of parchment. "The next petitioner is Alec Grafton, son of Lord Qyle Grafton of Gulltown in the Vale."

 _Alec?_ She hadn't seen him in years, but their last meeting ended very well. "Step forward, Lord Alec."

The heir to Gulltown stepped forward before the throne and bowed deeply in deference to her.

"Good to see you, Lord Alec. It's been a long time." It felt good to see a familiar face among a throng of unfriendly ones.

"The years have been very kind to you, Your Grace. Your presence in the Vale has been sorely missed," Lord Grafton said while standing up and exchanging a friendly smile with her.

"Tell us, my lord," Daemon went straight to the point as he next to the Iron Throne. "What issue is so troublesome so as to bring you so far from Gulltown?"

Alec Grafton had no bad feelings towards Daemon, but he had friends in Runestone and especially Lady Jeyne was not pleased with what the Rogue Prince tried to do in the past. However, he was now the husband of his queen and did his best to hide his displeasure.

"Your Graces, I come here on behalf of your cousin, Lady Jeyne Arryn. She sends her deepest apologies for not sending you aid as fast as the Starks did, for she had direct concerns relating to the Eyrie's protection from the Vale," the Gulltown heir explained.

"Weren't my son's promises of protection to the Eyrie not enough for Lady Jeyne enough for House Arryn to side with us?" Rhaenyra asked while keeping her still-existent grief for her son hidden from the public.

"It was, Your Grace, but she was worried of weakening her lands due to the unstable situation in the riverlands and King's Landing remaining in the hands of the usurper. However, with the capital in your control and Lord Stark about to fortify the riverlands, my lady feels confident enough to send a force of eight thousand men-at-arms and fifteen hundred knights to reinforce your defenses right here in the city. Both of the eldest Corbrays have been appointed commanders and they shall arrive her within a fortnight at the least," Lord Alec revealed.

Rhaenyra nodded, as did Daemon. Those numbers, along with the northmen, would be more than enough to buttress their forces in the Blackwater Bay and allow them to finally launch an offensive in the Reach. The defection of the Tyrells to her brother had increased the urgency of attacking the Reach. _Whether they willingly joined Aegon or were forced by Aemond is a matter to be reflected on at another time,_ she thought.

"While we appreciate your lady finally sending in critical support, you still haven't stated your reasons for your presence here," Daemon pressed.

"You understand that numbers can tip the scales in your favor, Your Grace, but the usurpers also understand that and will most likely attack with their own dragons. Moreover, the army that will arrive in King's Landing will need provisions and gold since they will be fighting comparatively far from their homes. Lady Jeyne requests that the army receives proper accommodations in the city and that the Corbrays are protected by dragon along the way," Alec finally submitted his petition.

Rhaenyra looked to Daemon, who shrugged, before looking back to Lord Alec. "We find no reason to deny your request, my lord," she answered. "Once your brethren arrives, they will receive adequate quarters and food to help them say further south for an extended period and I will send two dragons to cover them. Will that be sufficient enough?"

Daemon looked at her with surprise, and so did Lord Alec. "I— I - I thank you, Your Grace. That is more than enough protection."

"In the meantime, you are allowed into the guest quarters and the hospitality of this city is extended to you," Rhaenyra finished before Alec stepped back from the throne.

"What do you mean two dragons. Nyra?" Daemon whispered, not understanding where she got those numbers.

"You'll be staying here for the time being," she replied in a low voice, while wrinkling her eyebrows. "I'm sending Ulf and Hugh to protect them."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Daemon was concerned. "They've barely tamed Silverwing and Vermithor and they don't much combat experience despite their actions at Driftmark."

"Then, it's time that they get more of it," Rhaenyra replied. "Also, I don't want to hear more of their bragging while I'm trying to get a hold of this city and this is just a way for me to get them out of my hair."

Daemon pursed his lips, understanding what she meant. "As you wish, Nyra."

"Next," the court's herald pulled out another piece of parchment. "Lords Rayford Rosby and Howard Stokeworth."

Daemon's eyes darkened at the two lords who chose to side with the usurpers to save their own hides. Rhaenyra shared his sentiments, but for the sake of stability, she was willing to hear the two lords out and allowed them to explain as they knelt.

"You've got some nerve showing yourselves here in court, considering what you two did," Rhaenyra didn't hide her displeasure.

Rayford Rosby gulped. "Your Grace, I can offer no excuse for my actions while the usurper was sitting where you are now. I only ask for mercy for myself and my house in light of the situation I was in."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because I, like Lord Howard here, had to consider the future of our families after we refused to bend the knee to Aegon. We declared for you, Your Grace, and we were imprisoned for that. Once we were in the cells, it was either we swore fealty to him or see Rosby and Stokeworth on fire. Please consider what we had to do in that situation," Rayford Rosby pleaded.

"And what say you, Lord Howard? What do you have to say for youself?"

"Like Lord Rayford, I can offer no excuse. However, I showed loyalty even when the situation told me not to before I had to think of my wife and children. Please take that into consideration, Your Grace," he begged.

"If your loyalty is as strong as you said it was, then how could it be broken at the sight of a sword?" Daemon asked the two of them.

"At the time, our castles were surrounded by thousands of troops and two large dragons. If we did not swear loyalty, all of our people and our lands would have been turned to ash. If that happened, we would not have been of any use to Your Grace," Lord Rayford explained.

Daemon clenched his fist, obviously not accepting their excuses. If Rhaenyra felt more inclined to show to all the consequences of disloyalty, she would have burned them both before Syrax at that moment. However, the logical parts of her mind took over and she began to weigh the consequences of each action she would take against them.

While people would have strong warnings after seeing the burnt flesh of the Lords Rosby and Stokeworth, it was true that they did refuse to accept Aegon as their ruler even though their later actions largely nullified such a display of their loyalty to her. Rosby and Stokeworth were very close to King's Landing and with the Stauntons at Rook's Rest having barely held against the forces of Criston Cole, it was important to secure every castle and piece of land close to the capital so as to prevent immediate danger to herself and her family. Then again, there were consequences and she was going to let everyone know that.

"Lords Rosby and Stokeworth, you have committed treason against the crown and the punishment for that would be death," Rhaenyra declared to the whole court, making both of them sweat. "However, your earlier actions and the circumstances of your defection do grant you some… extenuation. For proving your loyalty to me in the first days of this war, you will be allowed to keep your life."

Daemon looked at her with shock, as did Corlys, Mushroom, Geradys, and some more in the court. As for Lords Rosby and Stokeworth, they laid their foreheads against the polished floor.

"Thank you, Your Grace. Thank you," they both said gratefully while some tears of relief were shed.

"However," Rhaenyra was letting them celebrate. "Since you did not display good faith to me later on, you must pay penalties. Lord Bartimos," she turned to the Lord of Claw Isle. "What is the annual income for both Houses Rosby and Stokeworth?"

"Three thousand gold dragons a year, Your Grace," her master of coin quickly answered.

"You will each be made to pay a one-time fine of two thousand gold dragons while you must pay seven hundred and fifty dragons a year to the crown for a period of fifteen years as punishment for being pliable," Rhaenyra penalized them both. "In addition, the crown will require a ward from each of you and you shall bring them to King's Landing to serve out their time at court until I say so. While they are being brought here, you will remain in their places."

Both of the lords sighed, knowing how much of their income will be cut and how it will cause financial difficulties for both houses while their children will be used as virtual hostages. But given that they still retained their heads while Aegon threatened to lob them off, it was a price that they had to accept.

"We accept your sentence, Your Grace," Lord Rayford assented.

"Good," Rhaenyra waved her hand and they both stood up and stepped back.

More petitions were heard that day, causing her more headaches due to the tediousness of it all. However, she knew that this was the price of being a queen and she had to bear it if she wanted to prove to all that she was what they needed.

Afterwards, Rhaenyra and Daemon went to the small council chamber and went over the various affairs of the Seven Kingdoms, or at least the parts that were under her control. Lord Bartimos talked about the financial matters of the realm, which included how their finances were becoming strained as the war went on, while Corlys, announced as Hand of the Queen soon after King's Landing fell, went over the various recommendations that pertained to the riverlords who had declared for Aegon and were now in custody. However, Rhaenyra and Daemon let them discuss such matters while only one occupied their minds.

"If all of you have completed your debates," Rhaenyra found an opening. "I do believe that there is one issue that we still haven't gone over."

"And what would that be, Your Grace?" Corlys asked.

"My son, Viserys, has been captured by the Triarchy. As a Prince of the realm, he needs to be returned to us with all possible haste," she pressed.

"I concur with Her Grace," Ser Medrick joined in. Due to their merits in capturing the city, both of the Manderly brothers were allowed in her council meetings. "The Triarchy is a threat that we cannot ignore and their actions in capturing Prince Viserys prove so."

"While Her Grace's concerns as well as Ser Medrick's are well-founded, our first priority is to combat the threat from Storm's End and from Highgarden," Corlys responded. "The stormlords can punch through our lines through the kingswood while the Tyrells can bring the entire Reach against us in the riverlands and here at King's Landing."

"I wouldn't trust the Tyrells fighting as enthusiastically as the Hightowers, Lord Hand," Ser Torrhen said. "Aemond and Daeron flew into Highgarden and clearly coerced them. A declaration of neutrality is something that should be respected by all sides, and Aemond dishonoring that shows his lack of faith and more importantly that the Reach is divided."

"That's true, Ser Torrhen," Daemon clasped his hands together. "I've trained the lad myself and he doesn't command charisma as a commander should. With Lord Stark preventing the Lannisters from advancing back into the riverlands and the whole region being fortified thanks to his cooperation with House Blackwood and House Tully, that allows a large portion of the northmen and now the Valemen under the Corbray brothers to reinforce us at King's Landing. That leaves us much opportunity to figure out how to deal with the Triarchy."

Rhaenyra noticed that while Daemon was agreeing with Ser Torrhen, Corlys was becoming a little objectionable to how the meeting was carried out. _What's going on there?_

"The Triarchy's fleet took a hit at Driftmark," Lord Commander Lorent added. "That'll leave us in a more advantageous position regarding Prince Viserys."

"Your Grace," Corlys turned to her. "I do not recommend that we move on the Triarchy so soon."

"And why not?" Rhaenyra saw that her former good-father was becoming more disagreeable.

"We first need to find out where Prince Viserys is and then we would need to devote more resources to his rescue, resources that we don't have," Corlys tried to explain.

"I'm sorry," Daemon let out a light laugh. "Is that the Sea Snake that I heard just speak? I had no idea that he was so concerned with resources, considering he sailed all the way to Yi-Ti and then to Asshai despite losing much along the way."

"I was a younger man with no idea of how the world worked," the Lord of Driftmark defended himself. "And we're in war. We can't afford to divert our attention to rescuing a younger son while our enemies close in on us."

Rhaenyra ground her teeth, upset at what her former good-father called Viserys. "'Younger son?' Is that how you see a Prince of the realm?"

"With all due respect to Prince Viserys, we have two male heirs to the throne. One is Prince Joffrey and the other is Prince Aegon. Plus, we have three more in Baela and Rhaena Targaryen and your daughter Princess Visenya. The Targaryen dynasty is secure with or without Prince Viserys."

Rhaenyra was shocked at how… cold he acted just now, and Daemon blinked in unpleasant surprise. "So, you see my children in terms of numbers? Is that it?"

"Numbers win wars, Your Grace," Corlys displayed more coldness. "And we cannot risk our chances of winning with just one prince who is not in line to the throne."

Rhaenyra slammed her hand on the table hard, having heard enough while startling even Corlys. "I believe you said your piece, my lord. And now, let me respond with mine. Getting my son Viserys back home is a priority as important as winning this war. However this war ends, House Targaryen will be damaged and there must be as many heirs as possible if my family is to survive past this conflict."

Seeing her former good-father still unconvinced and that she still held all of their attention, she pressed on. "And if that is not a good enough reason for you all, then I will say this: I nearly lost my daughter when Aegon tried to disrespect our father's wishes. While the gods have been kind to let her survive being born, I will fight hard to ensure that no more dragons die so senselessly. You can be sure that the same attitude applies for the rest of those who put their trust in me. If I can't rescue my own son, what good is sitting on the throne then?"

The small council and even Corlys were silenced. "If that is all, you're dismissed for today," Daemon spoke for her. As the small council chamber emptied, only Rhaenyra, Daemon, and Corlys remained.

She crossed her arms as she stood up from her seat. "How dare you such words about my son in front of them today."

"I merely spoke the truth, Your Grace."

"Bullshit!" Daemon shouted. "If this was your blood or Rhaenys, you'd do anything for them. I knew that the children not of Laena's womb were never your concern and I accepted that, but I never thought you would stoop so low as to disregard Viserys' safety."

"If you don't like what I have to say, then you could force me from your side," Corlys shrugged. "I still have a wife to attend to."

"No." As much as she disliked what he said, she still needed him. "You still have a purpose here. But… regarding my family, I expect to practice some control over your words in my presence. I did bear your son children, but I am your queen and you will not voice disregard for my son's safety again. Is that clear?"

Corlys pressed his lips together before nodding. "Yes, Your Grace."

"You can take your leave," she told him before seeing him exit the chamber. "I have no idea what just happened."

"I know," Daemon shared her unease. "Corlys is many things, but he would never abandon family. At least those with his blood."

"And he seemed so insistent on us not focusing on Viserys' rescue," Rhaenyra observed. "We'll have to keep an eye on him."

"Agreed. So what now?"

"Now, we have to go see to our guests."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes," Rhaenya nodded. "It needs to be done."

As Rhaenyra and Daemon walked towards the section of Maegor's Holdfast that housed their two most important prisoners, she strangely started to feel a little sympathy for Helaena. She knew what it was like to lose a son and she had no ill will towards her half-sister, nor her daughter Jaehaera, who was in another part of the castle.

The guards in front of Helaena's chambers dipped their heads at Rhaenyra and Daemon before opening the door. Entering, she saw her half-sister staring at nothing while sitting on the bed and ignoring them both. It was clear that the war had taken its toll on her also, with her unkept silver hair and dark circles around her violet eyes being evidence, but more so since she actually saw her son's assassins. _No mother should have to see that,_ she thought sympathetically.

Pulling a chair for herself and Daemon, they both sat in front of Helaena, who slowly turned her gaze to them.

"Hello, Helaena," Rhaenyra greeted her. She said nothing, which she expected. "I know that this is a difficult time for you and I know that I am the last person that you want to see. However, understand that I have no hatred towards you and that you will be safe under my care. The same goes for Jaehaera."

She kept quiet, to which Rhaenyra sighed. "I know what happened to Jaehaerys and no mother should ever have to see their child die before their time. There was no reason for him, a boy, to die so horribly and anyone who dares harm someone with the blood of the dragon will be punished. You have my word on it."

Helaena scoffed. "What is it?" Daemon asked her.

"If you're looking to punish the culprit, he's sitting right next to you," Helaena looked at Daemon with such hatred but with no energy left to lunge at him.

"What?" Rhaenyra was confused.

"Those men came in the dead of night and they ambushed me and my children," Helaena began. "It was clear that they came to kill and I did what any mother would by offering myself if they didn't touch my children. But they both refused, insisting that whoever died that night had to be a son. They were making me choose, but how could I?" Tears streamed down her face. Rhaenyra offered her a rag, but she slapped it away. Daemon moved to respond, but she put his hand on his arm and gestured for her sister to continue.

"One of the men, a small one, told that the other, a big one, would rape Jaehaera if I did not choose one now. I had to choose Maelor, no matter how much it tore my heart apart, since Jaehaerys needed to live. But do you know what happened next? They killed him instead. The big man lobbed his head off with a single blow with his sword… right in front of me while his blood splattered on my face. They didn't keep their word…"

Rhaenyra was having difficulty due to its vividness. "Helaena, you don't have to continue—"

"No," she shook her head. "We caught the big man, who went by the name Blood, and he claimed to have served in the City Watch. He said that he was acting under your husband's orders."

Rhaenyra's eyes widened in disbelief, while Daemon blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you're denying it now?" Helaena was close to exploding. "He said that you were seeking revenged for Lucerys and that your words to him were 'a son for a son.' You expect me to believe that the City Watch, who you have the gold cloaks, would not have done so if you asked?!"

Daemon was close to anger himself, but seeing Rhaenyra's eyes, he willed himself to be calm. "If anyone did that while claiming my sanction, I would have gone to that man, draw Dark Sister, and cut him into many pieces. And what's more? I'll enjoy every slice of it."

She laughed bitterly. "Oh, you haven't changed much, have you? No wonder why you ordered my son's death."

 _If I was my younger self, I would have drunk to little Jaehaerys' death just like with my nephew when he died in the cradle,_ he thought. But times have changed and he saw the error of his ways.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Daemon defended himself. But that sent Helaena into a rage. She stood up from her bed and began pounding on his chest, crying out while she did it. Rhaenyra moved to restrain her, but her half-sister was also a dragon and would not be easily denied her just wrath.

As for Daemon, he did nothing as she pounded him with her fists, letting her release all of her grief. He decided that it was best to stay quiet, as any more words from him would make it worse.

After shoving Rhaenyra's arms, who didn't let go until Helaena calmed down after she had enough, she looked at him with a burning fire in her eyes filled with tears. "I will kill you for what you did to my son. I will kill you, you bastard!"

 _I would be guilty, if I was still the Rogue Prince. But I'm a father and I saw precious life really was after holding Laena's and Nyra's babes in my arms,_ Daemon closed his eyes, with the years it took to learn from the mistakes of his youth temporarily being stripped away as he thought back to what he was. _Like what Nyra said, no mother should see their child die before their time._

He took out his dagger and mustered his calmest tone. "If you're so convinced that I would do order the death of your son, me being a father of five children now," he offered Helaena the knife, causing his wife and queen worry. "Do it. Cut across my throat and bury the blade in my heart. Because that's where such thoughts would come from." Seeing her inaction, he then grabbed Helaena's hand, put the dagger in it, and pressed her hand and dagger against his throat. "Go ahead. I won't stop you." Helaena was still seething, but it lessened upon seeing his seriousness. "Come on. Take your revenge." Another moment passed, with the wrinkles from his other niece's face slowly disappearing. "DO IT!"

Helaena pressed her lips together and looked very tempted to follow through. _What mother won't? I hadn't considered those consequences when I went to the Stepstones and burned many to hells._ However, she continued to look upon his face, which showed signs of sincerity from how calm it was and how serious his eyes were. Feeling his niece let go of the dagger, he released her hand and sheathed it before he and Rhaenyra sat down again.

Helaena's eyes were still watery, but instead of hatred, there was puzzlement. Like Rhaenyra, she had spent many years at court and knew how to detect lies. And so far, none of what Daemon was saying indicated such. "Do you even know who Blood is?"

"If it was really a man of the City Watch that acted under my orders, I would have known his name, where he came from, and would have known if he would harm children. Many of the men who served under me are still in the City Watch, so I would have known who you talked about," Daemon pointed out. "You think I wasted my time as their commander?"

"Still, you would have killed Jaehaerys if it meant being a step closer to the throne, like you always wanted," Helaena spat back, not yet ready to believe Daemon.

"It's true. I wanted the throne and I know that I only have my word, but that's all in the past. I met two wonderful women, first Laena and then Nyra, and they taught me much about life beyond a crown. I got a family and I saw precious life was. If I really did condemn your son to death, I would have killed myself the moment I did. Rather my children live without a father than be raised by a child-slayer."

More doubt entered Helaena's mind, as Daemon still didn't give off the signs of lying. "Why should I believe you?"

"You don't have to," Daemon shook his head. "After all, you and the others believed whatever you wanted to believe regarding me. Personally, I stopped caring what others said, more so after I got a family. But I am telling you the truth. I would never hurt children, especially one of my blood. Take it, or leave it. Your choice." With that, Daemon stood up from the chair and left the chamber.

Helaena turned to Rhaenyra. "What will happen now, with me and Jaehaera?"

"You will be safe and well-cared for, although under guard," Rhaenyra admitted. "Same with Jaehaera. She is a little girl and she needs to be sheltered from what's going on. Children should grow up as children should."

"Thank you," Helaena said while closing her eyes in relief.

Rhaenyra stood up also. "We'll continue this discussion later, but if you need anything from me, just let me know." She then exited the chambers, leaving Helaena to her thoughts.

She walked back to the solar, but was surprised to see her son Aegon, her step-daughter Baela, and Jaehaera all there while Daemon watched them. Baela assumed the role of an older sister and was playing with her cousin as they both handled carved wooden dragons while Aegon just sat there with that thousand-yard stare in his eyes. However, Jaehaera was near her son, not knowing what he was going through, and tried to play with him.

Aegon and Jaehaera were not especially close, with her and Viserys having better times when they visited King's Landing despite her animosity to Alicent. However, with him gone for the time being, she only had Aegon, who was too withdrawn for a child.

Sitting next to Daemon, she looked on the three children. Baela moved to curtsey, but Rhaenyra shook her head and gestured her to keep playing with her little cousin. "What will do with Aegon?" she asked sadly.

"We're his parents. The best we can do is be there for him," Daemon said and turned to her. "You do believe me, about Jaehaerys?"

"You need to ask that?" Rhaenyra knew when her husband was lying, but even then, he would never stoop that low.

Daemon sighed and nodded in satisfaction. "Right. I'm sorry. I just… never thought that would happen. The accusations and all that."

"But who would do such a thing?" Rhaenyra tried to work it out.

"We could ask Orwyle," Daemon offered.

She remembered the first time that damn maester tried to make her bend the knee to Aegon, but after what happened with Visenya, she was not going to let her brother's disrespect for their father slide and had kicked off Dragonstone. As the only other person in their custody who seemed privy to Aegon's and Aemond's plans, they couldn't kill him despite how much she wanted to.

"We should, but now, let's just… watch the children play. Enjoy what time we have now before they're thrusted into an unkind world," Rhaenyra said.

Daemon nodded in agreement, but the thought that he would order a child's death sickened him. It would be akin to ordering the deaths of either Baela, Rhaena, Aegon, Viserys, or Visenya, and he would rather die before doing that. _How much pain will Helaena live with since she was forced to choose?_ he thought as he smiled Baela, who was enjoying her last moments of innocence before it would be swept away eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhaenyra and Daemon get it on, as even a little while apart is enough to drive them crazy :) 
> 
> That flashback with Rhaenyra, Viserys, and Alicent... I feel that Viserys I took after his grandfather in a way in that he tried to make politically advantageous marriages, but unlike Jaehaerys, he put his foot down when it came to keeping Rhaenyra as his heir. As for Alicent, she saw it as a way to eject her rival from court, not that it mattered much in long run.
> 
> Rhaenyra is already tackling the business of running the Seven Kingdoms well, but will that continue? 
> 
> Now, for the important part of this chapter. Helaena blames Rhaenyra and Daemon for killing her son by sending Blood and Cheese. But honestly, I don't think that the canon accusations hold up logically. For one, in this story, Daemon has really matured into a father and therefore understands how precious children are. And another thing, it's highly unlikely that Daemon would or Rhaenyra would have considered kinslaying at this point in the war, for not only will that end badly for them, they would have to kill every one of the "green" Targaryens to achieve their goals, which is not realistic. 
> 
> Plus, I think Helaena deserves a chance at happiness and has the potential to be redeemed, just like her young brother Daeron.


	7. Keeping Bonds Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Hope you are all doing well. 
> 
> Started doing part-time work, so I've been struggling to find a new balance in my life at the moment that will accommodate my writing activities. And for my American friends, whatever happens after the elections, please remember this: life goes on, so don't let what happens ruin your life. As long as you breathe, only thing that matters is yourself and what will be the best version of yourself. I am not going to let man-made processes determine my life.

Daeron sat in the solar of the traditional lord of Casterly Rock, but with Jason dead and his son Lorean an infant, he had to deal with his mother and regent, Lady Johanna, in his place.

Also attending their meeting was Tyland Lannister, master of coin for Aegon. He was not in King’s Landing when Rhaenyra took it back, since he was overseeing the portion of the royal treasury, one-fourth, being deposited into the vaults of Casterly Rock. But what didn’t sit right with Daeron was the fact that Tyland was here and not at their side in the Reach, where they would being the march up the rose road through the northern part of that kingdom back to King’s Landing.

Aemond ordered Daemon to fly to Casterly Rock and have the Lannisters become more aggressive in spite of Lord Jason’s death, as he wanted the riverlands to burn before Cregan Stark could fully fortify the region. He had arrived that morning on the back of Tessarion and given his status as a prince of the realm, he was afforded the necessary hospitality and he didn’t have to wait to be called on.

“I am acting on behalf of my brother, Aemond, who is acting on behalf of my brother Aegon the Second of His Name as Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm. He sends his condolences on the death of your lord,” Daeron made that up. Aemond told him to not waste time with civilities, but he was being insensitive to the losses that House Lannister had incurred on their behalf. He wasn’t going to let his brother offend one of their most important allies, especially since King’s Landing was taken. _He might not think much of me, but I know how to be courteous to others and that will go a long way to ensuring none of the men who fight for us think about defecting._

“We accept your brother’s condolences, Your Grace” Lady Johanna and Tyland acknowledged. “We would also like to extend our concerns for your king and brother’s recent losses at King’s Landing, particularly the capture of Queen Helaena and Princess Jaehaera. It is regrettable that our queen and princess become captives to the mercilessness of Rhaenyra and the Rogue Prince.”

Daeron nodded. “Thank you, Lady Johanna. I shall remember to relay your concerns to my brother. Which brings me to his request. He asks why the men of the west have not marched on the riverlands in response to Cregan Stark’s forces defeating Lord Lefford at the Gods Eye?”

“Given the death of my lord husband and the losses we incurred, we though it inappropriate to ask our bannermen to march against the usurpers, Your Grace,” Lady Johanna answered.

“Inappropriate?” Daeron was perplexed by choice of words. “The more days that you don’t respond to Cregan Stark’s forces in the riverlands, the more time they have to make the entire region more impregnable to the forces of your king. The northmen arriving faster than anyone expected changes the entire situation, and all of us must react accordingly.”

“So, you’re asking us to risk more men and more gold to fight against northern barbarians?” Tyland posed.

 _You already have a part of our gold. What more do you need?_ Daeron thought with some frustration. “Lord Jason was a strong ally to my brother and king and I am merely asking that House Lannister continue his example and attack with the same vigor he had.”

“As brave and loyal as my husband was, he died due to insubordination from our bannermen and because of other factors he didn’t account for. Do you really expect us to march after seeing who Lord Lefford performed?” Tyland asked.

“Do you speak for House Lannister, Ser Tyland? I know that your brother was the Warden of the West, but Lady Johanna and Lord Loreon are now the representatives of your house, not you,” Daeron was irritated at how he spoke to him. “I am curious as to why you’re not at Highgarden, like Lord Strong and the other members of the Small Council. As the master of coin, we would really appreciate your advice on how we can continue to wage this war against the enemy.” Before Tyland spoke, he felt that he should remind him. “And you seemed to have forgotten how to address me. I’m a prince of the realm and you will address me as ‘Your Grace,’ something that your good-sister remembers well. Do you understand?”

Ser Tyland grounded his teeth at being spoke to like this by a boy much younger than him, but a warning look from Lady Johanna reminded him of who exactly he was addressing. “Apologies… Your Grace.” _Better._ “I had to oversee that the treasury was safely put into Casterly Rock’s vaults.”

“And you needed more than a moon to accomplish that simple task?”

“With my brother dead, Your Grace, I had to help oversee affairs here and to ensure that my nephew was in a safe condition,” the master of coin answered.

“Whatever affairs you have, I ask that you quickly resolve them. You are needed by your king’s side. Is that clear?” Daeron wasn’t going to hear more excuses from him.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Going back to the issue of sending more troops from the west, what’s wrong with advancing through the Golden Tooth? Even the northmen must understand that to attack that fortress would incur casualties beyond their toleration,” Daeron suggested.

“And that understanding, Your Grace, is why they won’t attack this kingdom. They will simply seal off all of the entrances to the riverlands and wait for us to come to them. They will have the advantage,” Ser Tyland pointed out.

“Hmmm,” Daeron thought aloud. “Then… what about sending your available troops southwards by way of the ocean road through Crakehall then Old Oak and finally Highgarden? You can then skirt through the defenses the northmen set up and either attack the riverlands from the south or reinforce your king in the Reach?”

“Will Lady Tyrell accept that, Your Grace?” Lady Johanna was surprised at how quickly Daeron presented the ocean road as an option.

“She should. After all, House Tyrell has declared for my brother and king and will marshal its banners accordingly.”

That was news to both Lannisters. “The Tyrells have decided to move away from their self-imposed neutrality, Your Grace? How?” Ser Tyland inquired.

“You two should be more informed of the happenings in the kingdoms, but yes. I was there when Aemond persuaded Lady Tyrell to change her mind and declare for the lawful king.”

“How did Prince Aemond accomplish that, Your Grace?” It was no secret that Prince Aemond was not very diplomatic in his approach and was more inclined to the battlefield.

“His recent appointment made him develop a certain… way of words,” Daeron answered cryptically. “But with the Reach fully on our king’s side, our position will recover from our recent setbacks. I suggest House Lannister continue the example set by your dear departed lord if you wish to retain our king’s favor.”

“And House Lannister shall respond,” Lady Johanna stood up. “May I take my leave, Your Grace? I have many ravens to send out. You shall have your troops.”

“Go right ahead, my lady,” Daeron bid her leave. “I have one other matter to discuss with Ser Tyland.”

As Lady Johanna left the solar, the atmosphere changed significantly. While the lady of Casterly Rock might have been courteous to Daeron, he was now dealing with a Lannister who knew how to maneuver himself through court and had the interests of his house at the forefront of his mind. His declaration for Aegon in his words, “I myself swore no such oath,” was not said because he was loyal to his brother. It was also in his own personal interest to say so, as he was nearby Aemond and Aegon, both of whom would summon their dragons to burn him if he so much showed an ounce of disloyalty in public.

As for Daeron, he was the youngest brother of the three sons born from Alicent Hightower’s womb. He was not blind to whenever people called him the “runt of the litter,” as he always took orders from either Aegon or Aemond despite his own personal reservations on the matter. Despite his royal status, he knew that the differences in authority and experience had shifted to Ser Tyland’s favor. _What are you thinking, Ser Tyland?_ he thought with some worry.

“What matter should we discuss, Your Grace?” He let some of his true feelings out into the open as his good-sister was not present, specifically his aggravation at how Daeron corrected him in how he addressed him.

He shrugged it off. “As the master of coin, I would expect you to have concern over where our money is being used and deposited. I spoke with Lord Hightower and he was very forthcoming. I guess that is one of the benefits that comes when we share some of the same blood.”

“What’s your point, Your Grace?”

“What news have we received from Braavos? The Iron Bank to be precise?”

“Our ships were able to sail from Storm’s End without incident and were granted safe conduct to Braavos, where they unloaded the other one-fourth of the treasury in their vaults. Therefore, three-fourths of the crown’s coin are out of our enemies’ reach,” Ser Tyland elaborated.

Even though the council at King’s Landing had crowned Aegon in defiance of King Viserys’ wishes, they had somewhat expected that Rhaenyra would resist and took measures to ensure that they would be able to conduct a long war. They had gotten in contact with the Iron Bank and obtained good terms for depositing part of the treasury in Braavos, but they decided not to sail past Dragonstone since Corlys “the Sea Snake” would be able to intercept the vessels. Though it took more time, they carted the gold under absolute secrecy in the dead of night and made it to Storm’s End, where Lord Baratheon kept until the ships arrived. Luckily for them, Lucerys Velaryon didn’t know that the gold was there because that wasn’t his purpose and any chance that he did died when Aemond killed him. _As much as I know that Aemond killed Lucerys out of spite, even I have to see that he helped us dodge quite the setback if he did know that the gold was at Storm’s End._

“So, from what I remember, each year our gold is deposited there, it accrues an interest of twenty percent annually but the Iron Bank takes half of that and a small percentage of our direct treasury as a fee?” Tyland nodded, impressed that Daeron had actually paid attention. “Greedy bastards,” he scoffed.

“Greedy as they are, we have protection against Rhaenyra and the Rogue Prince should they decided to get bold because of them,” Tyland assured him.

“Maybe,” Daeron was unsure.

“I see you have doubts, Your Grace. But in these times, we can’t afford to be choosy with who we trust,” Tyland saw his uncertainty. “With the North, Vale, and Riverlands siding with Rhaenyra, that leaves three other kingdoms on our side. Well, two kingdoms and a half if you consider the circumstances that Prince Aemond persuaded the Tyrells to join him, Your Grace.”

“I thought that you didn’t know of the Tyrells changing their stance,” Daeron was surprised.

“That was only for show in front of my good-sister. As I said, I had to deal with the affairs of Casterly Rock after my brother was killed and I don’t trust the mother of my nephew with such sensitive matters,” Tyland revealed. “That includes reading all of the ravens that come to and from here, Your Grace.”

Daeron narrowed his eyes. “You would go behind the back of your own good-sister, especially at a time like this? That’s something we cannot afford.”

“I am merely looking out for the interests of my house, Your Grace. And as I said, I don’t trust my good-sister with keeping the Lannisters afloat, all due respect to her,” he admitted.

“What about your words on us not being able to afford being choosy with who he trust?” Daeron brought them up.

“Different contexts, Your Grace,” Tyland answered frostily. “When this war is over, there has to be a strong House Lannister standing and that is more important than ever with my brother’s death. If our house weakens when their lord is killed in combat, then we won’t be a house that is feared or one that is followed by our bannermen.”

Daeron couldn’t believe where the master of coin’s priorities lay. “But what about your king? Our cause? If we lose this war, House Lannister will suffer. Have you considered that?”

“I have, Your Grace,” Tyland answered, but Daeron could somehow sense that he meant to say _Don’t be silly, boy_. “That’s why I have been hard at work to ensure that we win. At the same time, I must take care of my nephew and make him into a proper lord. House Lannister must not show weakness, especially given the times we’re in, and all it takes is one moment of it to bring us down.”

Daeron shook his head. “If only Aemond could hear you say what you’ve just said now.”

“But even a man like Prince Aemond knows that he can’t just put aside those that can help him and your cause despite having selfish objectives, Your Grace,” Tyland shot back. “Whether you like it or not, Your Grace, you and your brothers need me and our house. If you try to cut us out, we will take all of our bannermen and march them back to their homes. That’ll deprive you all of one kingdom, and you need every man you can get with King’s Landing in Rhaenyra’s hands.”

Daeron was silent, the doubts increasing inside of him.

“It seems as if you spent too much time learning about chivalry at Oldtown, Your Grace, because you apparently think that we all came to your brother’s side because it was supposedly the right thing to do,” Tyland continued. “Allow me to deprive you of such notions. If we believed in doing about the right thing, I would have declared for Rhaenyra, but I didn’t because the Lannisters would be disadvantaged with the Rogue Prince and Corlys at her side. And Lord Baratheon didn’t side with your brother until Aemond betrothed himself to his daughter. We all seek something in the end, Your Grace, and that’s why we do this.”

Daeron gritted his teeth, hating both how Ser Tyland spoke of his self-interests and how right he sounded.

“This is the real world, Your Grace, and you’re just a shadow of your more… capable brothers,” he finished.

Daeron wanted nothing more than to draw his sword and run him through his chest. But that would also cause the men of the west to withdraw and he feared what Aemond would do, so he willed himself to be calm. Deciding to switch topics before his anger became unmanageable, his thoughts turned to the troops.

“When can I expect the men sworn to Casterly Rock to assemble at Crakehall to begin the march down the ocean road?” he asked.

“Give them three weeks and they will be there,” Ser Tyland answered.

“And how many can be expected to show up?”

“Ten to fifteen thousand. We also have to keep ourselves safe from Dalton Greyjoy.”

Daeron nodded in understanding, as the Red Kraken’s reaving along the shores of the west had been a great cause of concern for Aemond and the Hightowers. “Who do you suggest be the commander of this host?”

“I suggest Lord Roland Westerling, Your Grace.”

“Lady Johanna’s father?”

“He’s an able lord and an experienced commander of troops. How my brother didn’t take him along when he marched into the riverlands astounds me, as his presence might have made a difference and my brother might still be alive if his good-father was there at his side,” Ser Tyland declared wistfully.

Daeron had some concerns about Roland Westerling, particularly due to his age. Ser Tyland left out the fact that his brother’s good-father had passed fifty-nine name-days and was way past his prime. However, he also expected the master of coin to defend Lord Westerling with such vigor as to essentially talk him into appointing the elderly Lord of the Crag anyway. Seeing how open he was in his self-interests, the youngest son of Alicent Hightower did not want to spend another moment in that solar.

“All right. I accept your recommendation. But he better be in good fitness or I will talk to Aemond about it and he might not be as understanding as I am being right now,” Daeron warned him, which Ser Tyland shrugged off. “Also, both the Prince Regent and your king will require your presence at their side, so I suggest you accompany the army. We wouldn’t want any misunderstandings to occur because of your absence, do we?”

Daeron was not going let Ser Tyland have the final say. From how he shifted slightly with discomfort at the thought of dealing with Aemond, it seemed to have worked.

“As you wish, Your Grace.”

Slapping his hand on the table in satisfaction, Daeron walked out of the solar and into Casterly Rock’s courtyard, where Tessarion lay waiting for him. Rubbing her snout, the Blue Queen was the only true comfort that he could get as this war raged on. That, and the thought of his times with Baela and Moondancer in his mind.

Looking back, people should’ve been more alarmed at how combative the dragons on both sides behaved before the war. Sunfyre and Syrax snapped at each other, with the same happening between Caraxes and Vhagar and so on. It was a clear sign of what was to come, but no one wanted to even consider the possibility that the last dragons would want to kill each other. _Or they were so invested in keeping the peace that they didn’t want to see that blood was on the horizon._ Daeron himself was certainly guilty of that, as he remained ignorant of the growing tensions as he was in Oldtown.

But not between Tessarion and Moondancer, and especially between himself and Baela. During the few times they spent at the Dragonpit, their dragons were quite… cordial with one another despite their difference in age and size, which was more than what the dragons were being. Seeing how easy they both were acting with each other, Daeron petted Moondancer and she with Tessarion. And thinking about that kiss she put on his lips made him more worried for her safety, as she was probably the only one he enjoyed being around before it all turned into chaos. _Please don’t let me fight her and please keep her safe,_ he prayed to the gods. _Also, please let me see her again, alive._

He didn’t know if it was love he felt for her, but she brought out his tender side, something that both of his brothers didn’t have. And he didn’t want that to be destroyed by the war.

The next morning after sending a raven to the Crag, which contained the offer to Roland Westerling to be the commander of the west on behalf of both House Lannister and the rightful king, he flew to Crakehall and introduced himself to the lord of the castle. There, he would wait until the army assembled and would thus be ready to march into the Reach.

As for Daeron, he would oversee the march before rejoining Aemond and Aegon. Whether they would praise him for getting additional help or criticize him for whatever reason, he didn’t know. _Please, let this war be over soon._

* * *

Cregan and his personal entourage from Winterfell rode down the kingsroad towards the Gate of the Gods. Behind by about five miles were twenty-two thousand northmen from houses such as Umber, Manderly, Glover, and Bolton among others. He would also be remiss to forget the Winter Wolves under the command of Roderick Dustin, who he insisted to come to King’s Landing as a show of strength before Rhaenyra and Daemon, as well as the entire population of the capital. But as the Warden of the North, he felt it more proper that he would introduce himself first before the rest of the northern lords that had journeyed southwards arrived at the city.

But more importantly, he had personal business to discuss with the queen, specifically the Pact of Ice and Fire formed with the union between Jacaerys Velaryon and his sister Sara. With him dead, the pact was in danger of being dismantled and he thus had to ensure that another prince of the dragon’s blood, preferably one with the name Targaryen, would be united with a lady of House Stark.

 _I might have journeyed south for her cause, but I’ll be damned if House Stark doesn’t gain benefits because I marched too far to be denied_ , he thought. _They might be dragons and fly them, but they should know that the North has people that should not be trifled with_.

Taking a whiff of the air, he jerked his head back at the strong smell of shit. From what he remembered from looking over the maps of the crownlands, he was still a few miles away from actually seeing the city. _I could smell the shit from miles away._ He wasn’t overly bothered, having gotten used to stronger scents from Winterfell, but he presumed from that fact alone that things at the capital were not in good shape. _If our queen wants to be a good one, she really should clean up the shit._

Finally, Cregan and his entourage came within sight of King’s Landing, with the Red Keep, the Dragonpit, and Visenya’s Hill visible. The sigil of House Targaryen had adorned the walls as expected, but alongside the official sigil were Rhaenyra’s personal coat of arms, quartered with the falcon of House Arryn and the seahorse of House Velaryon on the top right corner and the bottom left corner, respectively. It made clear to all who was in charge of the city. _But she should know that the war is far from over even though she has both the capital and Dragonstone under her control._

Eventually, they arrived at the Gate of the Gods. There were detailed carvings on the gatehouse and over the portcullis with eyes that seemed to follow one as he or she entered the gates, with each of the carvings assuming the shape of the deities of the Faith of the Seven. The gatehouse had a windowless guard room and was at the western corner of the walls around the city. _Lord Manderly might enjoy seeing this if he were here,_ Cregan mused.

But while the gate was opened and some smallfolk entered and exited, there were ten men wearing goldcloaks and two men with the merman sigil of House Manderly. _Sers Torrhen and Medrick,_ he remembered.

Immediately upon seeing Cregan, the two men of House Manderly dipped their heads in respect to their Lord Paramount while the goldcloaks were confused.

“Excuse me? Who are you?” one of them asked.

“Hey, dumbshit. That’s Cregan Stark, Warden of the North. He’s come here with an army to help Her Grace win the war,” the other Manderly man scolded him.

“Who you calling dumbshit?” the goldcloak was offended but the Manderly man stared back daggers. Gulping at the northmen’s rebuking stare, the goldcloak turned to Cregan and bowed. “Apologies, my lord. I didn’t recognize you.”

“No worries, man of the City Watch,” Cregan answered. “Is Her Grace in the city at the moment?”

“Yes, my lord. She is in the Red Keep as we speak, alongside Prince Daemon and Sers Torrhen and Medrick Manderly.”

“Excellent. Send one of your men to announce my presence while I make my way there. Also, tell your commander that I need accommodations for twenty-thousand men,” Cregan ordered the goldcloak.

“I’m not sure if we have the room, my lord,” he became nervous at the prospect of more northerners coming.

“I’m sorry. Is that what I should tell my bannermen, men who came all this way from their homes to support the queen and sacrificed much as they did so?” Cregan challenged him. “We need accommodations, man of the City Watch. Please make sure that my troops obtain them.”

“As you wish, my lord,” the lead goldcloak ran back into the city while the rest made way for the Lord of Winterfell. He passed through the Gate of the Gods without incident.

If it weren’t for the bodies of the knights, men-at-arms, and footmen sworn to the usurper either laying on the streets or hanging from gibbets with the word “traitor” around the necks followed by their names, he would have assumed that nothing had happened in the city. He had heard that at the sound of Caraxes roar, the goldcloaks eagerly switched sides and opened the gates of King’s Landing to the forces sworn to Dragonstone and the northmen under the Manderly brothers. The Manderlys had a direct role in securing Maegor’s Holdfast and taking Helaena and Jaehaera Targaryen captive. Unfortunately, most of the small council of Aegon were not present in the capital and the master of whisperers, Lord Strong, had managed to smuggle the wounded Aegon, his son Maelor, and two Kingsguard out of the city and onto the rose road, where they made their way to friendly lines in the Reach. _Well, we did accomplish something great here._

People eyed the Lord of Winterfell and his personal guard with curiosity, having never seen northmen before the Manderly brothers came. But they made way upon seeing the direwolf sigil flying above their heads, as they moved towards the Red Keep.

Finally, they made it to the causeway, guarded by more goldcloaks and a mix of Dragonstone bannermen and those sworn to House Velaryon.

“Halt!” one of them shouted. “Identify yourself!”

“I am Cregan of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I have business with Queen Rhaenyra,” he announced himself.

The guards looked at each other with bewilderment before another goldcloak, presumably the one sent as a runner when he came to the Gate of the Gods, ran down the causeway towards them. “It’s all right. Let them through. Her Grace is expecting them.”

They made way as Cregan and the northmen stepped towards the Red Keep on horseback and through the portcullis.

The head of House Stark had expected many things from seeing the inside of where much of the decisions that determined the course of the Seven Kingdoms were made. But up close, he wasn’t daunted by the scale of the same castle built by Maegor Targaryen. The red castle of House Targaryen, in all actuality, seemed like another fortress that merely had a messed-up history behind it, which essentially applied to all castles in existence.

At the same time, he knew that he had to be careful of how he conducted himself, as he was now within the same walls that many referred to as a viper’s nest. While he had confidence that Rhaenyra and the other grown Targaryens wouldn’t harm him, there were so many unknowns that had claimed the lives of many.

Looking up upon hearing a set of roars as he and his men dismounted in the outer yard, he saw two dragons circling above, who he assumed were Syrax and Caraxes from the former’s yellow scales and the latter’s red scales. That was the evidence he needed to know that he didn’t make this trip for nothing.

“Lord Stark,” Cregan turned away from the sky to see a rugged man adorned with the Velaryon seahorse approach him, with the pin worn by those appointed as Hand of the King, or Queen in this instance. From what he could remember, this was Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake.

“Lord Corlys,” he acknowledged. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“And yours also,” they shook hands. “Thank you for coming all this way from Winterfell. And my condolences on the death of Lady Alysanne.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Cregan nodded in gratefulness.

“I presume you seek an audience with Her Grace Queen Rhaenyra?” the Lord of Dritfmark asked.

“You are correct, Lord Hand.”

“She is currently occupied with petitioners in the throne room. However, she told me to ensure that you and your men are well cared for and that she will have time to speak with you later today,” the Hand of the Queen explained.

“With respect, Lord Corlys, I have pressing matters to discuss with Her Grace, which includes the twenty-two thousand bannermen that I brought with me to reinforce our positions in the Blackwater Bay. I can’t have my lords wait outside the city without accommodations for them,” Cregan pointed out.

“As I said, she will have time to speak with you. In fact, she told me to invite you to dine with her and her husband Prince Daemon this evening. There, you can discuss all the matters you must with her. Would that be agreeable?” Corlys offered.

 _Dining with the queen… that’s private enough._ “Yes. I accept her invitation, Lord Hand.”

“Splendid,” the Hand of the Queen smiled. “I’ll have some men see to your horses and arrange you all in the guest quarters.”

As the Lord of Driftmark walked towards the throne room, Cregan saw Ser Medrick Manderly approach. “Lord Cregan,” he bowed. “It’s good to see you, my lord.”

“And I you,” he was happy to see the heir to White Harbour. “Congratulations on your merits in taking this city. I trust you’ve been properly rewarded by Her Grace for your actions?”

“She allows me to sit in the small council, my lord. And she promised more rewards on the way,” Ser Medrick responded.

“Excellent. And I trust that this city is treating you well?” Cregan asked somewhat rhetorically.

“Well… not as bad as I initially thought, but danger lurks everywhere I walk,” the elder of the Manderly brothers admitted.

“If you have time now or tomorrow, I would like to discuss with you and Ser Torrhen on what went on in this city before my arrival.”

“I have duties to attend to today on behalf of Prince Daemon, my lord. But I might be able to meet with you should there be no meetings of the small council tomorrow,” Medrick quickly thought.

“Of course,” Cregan patted his shoulder. “I shall look forward to what you have to say on the city and the war.” With that, Ser Medrick moved to another part of the Red Keep.

Following a servant sent by Lord Corlys into Maegor’s Holdfast, the Warden of the North and his personal guard were quickly settled into the guest quarters. He untied Ice from his waist and set it against the wall while he discarded his thick cloaks. It was still not winter and thus quite hot this far south of the Neck. He then sat upon the bed, getting used to the unfamiliar surroundings of the royal residence. He could only imagine what this place was like once the usurper seized it and after Ser Medrick led the northmen into this very castle and secured the usurper’s queen and only daughter.

Closing his eyes, he thought of home at Winterfell and his children, Rickon, Sarra, and Raya, who had to grow up without their mothers. _I was supposed to be there, but honor told me that I had to go south to fight for my queen._ It was hard for him to fight the urge to drink heavily for not being there for his wife, but he realized that he had to press on, something that she would have wanted instead of him wallowing in despair.

While he had an heir and two daughters, that left the senior line of House Stark in a precarious position compared to the brood of his uncle Bennard. While he would never resort to kinslaying, he wasn’t willing to let all of his efforts to assert his rule over Winterfell go to waste if Rickon was to die and Bennard inherited anyway. _May the Old Gods protect my children while I’m away from the north,_ he prayed.

Taking a few hours of slumber, Cregan left his room and decided to explore the Red Keep on his own. Given that not many were yet acquainted with the Warden of the North, he found it refreshing to become familiar with the halls of the red castle and the various rooms and pavilions within its walls, including looking upon the Tower of the Hand, without people addressing him as “my lord.” He had a feeling that he would be in the city for quite some time, so he might as well have some idea of the layout without having others to guide him.

He then remembered that the Red Keep had a godswood, which only took him a few moments to find. Stepping inside, he found an acre of elm, alder, and black cottonwood. Unlike the weirwoods of older godswoods like the one in Winterfell, the heart tree within the Red Keep was a great oak covered in [smokeberry](https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Smokeberry) vines, with red [dragon's breath](https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Dragon%27s_breath) growing below the oak. _I’m surprised that Aegon or Maegor or whoever actually decided to include a godswood, considering that they converted to the Faith._

Although paling in comparison to the one in Winterfell, he decided to take more than a few moments within the godswood. Like the Starks before him, he found a certain calm that could only be felt when in the presence of a heart tree, even though it wasn’t a weirwood. Leaning against the oak, he breathed in the air of the only place in that wretched city where he could breathe clean air.

 _I wonder if whoever built this place had an actual weirwood to plant. Probably would’ve imbued a certain natural touch to this city, which it lacks. Something to take up with Queen Rhaenyra if I have the time,_ he thought.

He then thought about the First Men who had once ruled all over Westeros, to be replaced by the Andals except in the North, and then conquered by the dragons. So much change had come and Cregan contemplated on what could be done should they emerge victorious. It was certain that at least some of the northmen might elect to stay in the south, though he couldn’t imagine why if they wished so, and that would mean at least a few parts of the First Men traditions being brought back if only temporarily. _If not, there will always be a divide between north and south and would spell disaster should another northman venture this far._

He knew that the Starks couldn’t just remain in the North forever, and that they would have to be active in the affairs of the Seven Kingdoms eventually. _If it comes to that, we have to be in a position of strength._ And that was one of the things that he intended to undertake once the war was done.

“My lord?” he looked up and saw a servant girl. “I was told to find you here.”

“What do you want?” Cregan was initially annoyed at his thoughts being interrupted before seeing that the sun was near setting. _I spent more time than I thought._

“Her Grace told me to bring you to her solar where she will dine with His Grace Prince Daemon,” the servant girl answered.

Remembering why he was here in the first place, Cregan stood up. “All right. Take me there.”

Going back into Maegor’s Holdfast, the girl led him into the upper levels and towards the more restricted areas of the castle. Arriving at what appeared to be the royal solar, the girl knocked on the door. “Enter,” they both heard. Cregan and the servant girl complied.

The Warden of the North looked upon the queen that he swore himself to, looking as beautiful and bright as ever despite the number of children she birthed, her efforts in fighting for her throne, and her personal losses. Her wavy silver-gold hair had been tied in an elaborate braid while wearing purple and maroon velvets and golden [Myrish](https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Myr) lace in intricate patterns. Her bodice, tightened around her thin frame and sizable bosom, glittered with pearls and diamonds, and he saw rings on her fingers. He also could see that she saw wearing the crown of Jaehaerys the First of His Name, a gold band with seven jewels in alternating colors.

But he could see that behind her violet eyes, there was a certain distress to them, a type that could only be obtained after knowing the burdens of rule and experiencing tremendous pain. _A queen who has beauty and ruggedness,_ he concluded silently and with admiration.

His eyes then turned to who he assumed was Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince. Unlike his wife and queen, he had his silver hair flowing freely to his shoulders. Despite the gap of sixteen years between himself and Rhaenyra, he had retained the handsome looks that had made many a maiden fall for him, with his face lacking in the wrinkles that came with age, sharp jawline, muscular arms and toned core evident through his garments, and piercing violet eyes.

But like with Rhaenyra, he could recognize the years of experience that the Rogue Prince had behind his eyes, all of which were gained from his many adventures from the Stepstones to Harrenhal. It was a look that Cregan would recognize in anyone. _So, his reputation seems to be well-deserved._

What really caught his attention was how they sat close to each other. Taking another look at Daemon, Cregan noticed something more about his posture. He looked very relaxed and had put his hand on top of Rhaenyra’s. Regarding his handsome features, he noticed that his silver hair was just a little messy and combined with how he was dressed, his appearance was not as neat compared to men who would try to look their best in front of their family and acquaintances. While such an approach to personal grooming would have not earned him much favor with other courtiers, Cregan could see how the years have greatly dulled his past roguishness and how the famous seducer was now through. Having found and ended up with who appeared to be the love of his life, it seemed as if Daemon didn’t need to dress his best every time, as his queen and wife would love him regardless.

The same applied to Rhaenyra, who was just as relaxed as her uncle and husband. _The same feelings I had when Arra and Alysanne were around,_ Cregan thought sadly.

Cregan bowed his head to the two. “Your Graces, may I present Cregan of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North?” the servant girl introduced him.

“Oh, yes. You can take your leave now,” Rhaenyra told the girl, who left the solar. She and Daemon both walked up to the head of House Stark, who kissed her proffered hand and shook Daemon’s. “You are most welcome, my lord,” she warmly smiled.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” he answered.

“Good to see you again, Lord Stark. As I said before, your reputation precedes you,” Daemon said.

“As I said to you at Harrenhal, there is no one in the Seven Kingdoms who isn’t aware of yours, Your Grace,” Cregan chose his words carefully. “You’ve distinguished yourself greatly.”

“I’m flattered,” Daemon smiled in good nature while Rhaenyra gestured them both to sit at the table. In front of them was a whole chicken, slices of ham, loaves of bread, soup, fruits, a jug of wine and goblets, and other foodstuffs and items that made this meal fit for royalty.

“I hope you’re hungry, Lord Cregan,” Rhaenyra said. “This is probably one of the best meals that I had since the war started. Mostly because my newborn daughter has finally arrived from Dragonstone.”

“My congratulations, Your Grace,” he offered.

“I understand that you’ve only recently welcomed a daughter of your own?” she inquired as she proceeded to eat her dinner.

“I have, Your Grace. Raya Stark,” he answered while cutting a piece of chicken away. “And I have to admit, I found more joy when my daughters were born compared to my firstborn Rickon.”

“Why is that, Lord Stark?” Daemon asked while putting a piece of bread into his mouth.

“The North is a very hard place to live in, Prince Daemon. And while boys and men can make the task of living there more tolerable, it is the ladies that bring out the better side of hardy men, and life,” Cregan explained. “It’s something that I learned from my mother and a lesson that I wish to pass on to Sarra and Raya, if their mother was still here.”

The forks and knives stopped moving, as Rhaenyra and Daemon were shocked. “What do you mean, my lord?” she asked.

“My second wife, Alysanne of House Blackwood… it was a difficult birth and she didn’t make it,” Cregan didn’t want to spend so much time reliving the moment when he got the news. “And I only had a short time to mourn her before I had to march south,” he couldn’t go on without shedding tears, which he didn’t want to show in front of his rulers. 

“I’m so sorry, Lord Cregan,” Rhaenyra offered sincerely. “May the gods grant her peace in the afterlife. I hope that Ladies Sarra and Raya can make it through the harshness of life, just like I had to when my mother died.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Cregan nodded while trying to shrug off the melancholy before it became too much. Seeing his struggle, Rhaenyra had the good sense to move on.

“Regarding what you said about your daughter, I felt the same when I held Visenya in my arms. It was when I heard that my brother disrespected my father’s wishes and crowned himself. I thought that I would lose the baby, but by some miracle, she survived and she helped me through that difficult time before I stood back up again,” Rhaenyra was quickly brought back to the difficult childbirth. She then held up her goblet to Cregan, filled with Arbor gold, who responded in kind. “May little Sarra and Raya bring you the same happiness I had when I had Visenya, and may she help you heal the wounds caused by the early departure of your lady wife.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Cregan said gratefully as the three drank the wine.

“So, my Hand told me that you have business to discuss with me,” Rhaenyra brought up.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Concerning what?”

“First, I have brought twenty-two thousand men of the North here to King’s Landing, whom you have may have seen sometime earlier today,” Cregan started.

“Yes, I saw them standing about outside of the walls,” Daemon confirmed.

“They’ve marched this far south to fight for you, Your Grace, and at great personal expense. It’s not easy for us northmen to be this far south,” Cregan went straight to the point. “The least they require are suitable accommodations in the form of living quarters, food, and weapons. All of that will allow them to fight to the best of their ability against the usurpers while allowing them to cope being so far from home.”

Rhaenyra and Daemon glanced at each other, struck by his sincerity. It was certainly refreshing for the both of them, having become accustomed to the lies and false faces that so defined court in the south. “And they shall have it, and more. What queen will I be if I don’t acknowledge the sacrifices my troops make when they struggle for me?”

Cregan nodded in appreciation. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“And what’s the other business you wish to discuss?” Daemon moved on.

The Lord of Winterfell knew that he really had to be careful, as his next inquiry touched on a very personal subject to Rhaenyra. “First, let me begin by offering my condolences to you on the death of His Grace, Prince Jacaerys. He was a fine man and my sister Sara was heartbroken upon hearing how he died.”

Rhaenyra closed her eyes breathed in and out heavily, reminded of how she fainted when she had heard of her eldest son’s passing. “Thank you, Lord Stark.”

“With that being said, Prince Jacaerys married my sister Sara to form the Pact of Ice and Fire, which he said was authorized by you, Your Grace,” Cregan stated.

“Yes, we know the terms of the pact, Lord Stark. Why did you bring this up?” Daemon asked while looking at Cregan’s grey eyes with his piercing violet ones. But the Warden of the North was not going to back down, staring right back at him. _People might be afraid of you, Prince Daemon, but the difference between me and them is that I act despite my fears_.

As if hearing his thoughts, Daemon smirked in amusement.

“Jacaerys was close to strengthening the ties between our two houses, Your Grace, and he would have succeeded if he were still alive,” Cregan continued. “I ask that the pact continue on its natural course before it dissolves. That way, the northmen will have one more reason to fight for the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“You mean you wish for a Targaryen to marry a Stark?” Daemon asked, to which Cregan nodded. “I’m not sure if we could fulfill your request at this time, my lord. Prince Joffrey is currently betrothed to Lord Desmond Manderly’s daughter, I won’t force my grown daughters and infant one into pacts that they don’t want, and Aegon is too young. My son has been through quite the ordeal and I don’t wish to burden him with talks of marriage.”

“And I completely understand your position, Prince Daemon,” Cregan replied.

“But it appears that you have more to say, Lord Stark,” Rhaenyra crossed her arms.

Cregan pursed his lips before continuing. “Should Prince Aegon be able to make it through his ordeal with his mind intact, him being your eldest Targaryen son will make him an ideal choice for anyone seeking a betrothal to him. That will cause much competition and I remember enough from history to know that competition regarding royal betrothals and claims would lead to irreparable scars between houses.”

“Very well said, my lord,” Rhaenyra nodded with much agreement.

“So… I’m not seeking a betrothal between Prince Aegon and a lady of House Stark. And I won’t ask you to betroth any of your daughters to my son, since he is too young to be consulted on that matter,” he told them. “I ask that a bond be established between my daughter Sarra and your son Prince Viserys.” _Hopefully, that’ll be the one with the least competition and the safer option._

Rhaenyra and Daemon’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “I’m sure you understand where he is now, my lord,” Daemon answered.

“I do,” Cregan bobbed his head. “And that’s why I chose him, since many houses wouldn’t go for a prince of the realm in captivity and therefore making the choice easier for both Your Graces.”

Rhaenyra chuckled before she frowned. “Have you no shame, my lord?”

“If I did have shame, Your Grace, I would have allowed my uncle to usurp me,” Cregan responded with. “But please don’t misunderstand my intentions. I am not testing you. I have no ill regards towards you. I am merely asking my ruler to honor the pact that she herself authorized, a pact that made me come here to fight for you.”

“Even if we wanted to honor it, my lord,” Daemon joined back in. “We could not, in good faith, do so since our son is a prisoner.”

“And I know that, Prince Daemon. However, I have to have something here, something to offer to the northern lords. If the pact is not consummated, then the northern lords will be inclined to march home. That’s a situation that all of us should actively avoid,” Cregan reasoned.

“I appreciate your concern for your bannermen, Lord Cregan,” Rhaenyra stated. “And I am well aware of the consequences of dishonoring the pact that I had Prince Jacaerys make with your house. But this is our son you are talking of and among our concerns is bringing him back home safely. Until that happens, we cannot offer a betrothal between him and your daughter.”

But Cregan was not going to be denied. “If I were to… lend my assistance in that matter, Your Grace, will you at least give some thought on it?”

“How do you intend to do that?” Daemon was very curious.

“Ser Torrhen has connections to the Triarchy, Prince Daemon. He’s been there before and unlike yourself and Lord Corlys, they won’t kill him the moment he steps foot on their lands. Allow him to ask around, see where they’re holding Prince Viserys. Once he finds them, we can send a group of men to infiltrate wherever his prison is and get him out,” Cregan offered.

Daemon and Rhaenyra thought on it. It was certainly a tempting offer, and this showed how determined their Warden of the North was in accomplishing his goals.

“I believe… we’re thinking ahead of ourselves here,” Rhaenyra stood up. “Allow us to think on your offer, Lord Cregan, but thank you for it. And how about this? We’ll discuss it in more detail tomorrow, at the small council. Do you accept?”

Cregan sighed, not satisfied at his queen being reluctant to continue the pact despite her understandable reasons, but he realized that this was all he was getting in that moment. “I accept, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra smiled. “Good. We have much to discuss, then. I will see you tomorrow, my lord.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” he bowed as Rhaenyra left the solar back to her chambers, leaving him with Daemon.

“Quite the determination you have, Lord Cregan. Just like me,” Daemon noted.

“I had to obtain it, or else my uncle would have taken what was mine,” he admitted.

“I heard about what your uncle did. You’re really something, bringing up the pact in the midst of everything that’s going on?” Daemon stepped forward to him, as if about to strike him, before nodding with approval. “We need more men like that around here.”

“I do what I must, Prince Daemon. Nothing more to it,” Cregan simply said.

“And that is why you’ll do good here,” he clasped his shoulder. “I look forward to our time together.”

“Thank you,” Cregan replied.

Daemon and Cregan both left the solar before diverting, the former to his queen’s chambers and the latter to his own in the guest wing. While he had earned the approval of both Targaryen royals, he knew that there was much to be done. _Don’t lose sight of what you must do,_ he reminded himself as he prepared himself for what the next day will bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here, Daeron is coming to his own as a leader in his own right and already knows that Tyland Lannister (one of the thieves in canon of the treasury) cannot be trusted. But will the westerlander army be enough to turn the tide? 
> 
> The important chunk is Cregan Stark arriving in King's Landing and having the meeting with Rhaenyra and Daemon, which never happened in canon. Cregan had turned 21 when the Dance began, but he was already an able Warden of the North and the greatest of House Stark since the days of the Kings of Winter. And he wants to ensure House Stark rises in importance in the Seven Kingdoms, which was why he agreed to the Pact of Ice and Fire. With Jacky dead, he wants the pact continued through Viserys and Sarra. Will his actions be enough for Daemon and Rhaenyra to accept his proposal? 
> 
> See you next time!


	8. “Those that want it all, they don’t last”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! Hope you are all doing fine! For those living in America, whatever way you swung, I just hope that we don't allow these circumstances to tempt us into division, for at the end of the day, you are all living in the same space and you are all neighbors. And more importantly, don't let the loud ones influence how you think or feel, because their words almost always do not reflect reality. For the others elsewhere in the world, continue living your life, for life goes on no matter what happens. 
> 
> With that being said, here's the chapter.

Aemond at the front seat of the table in the great hall, where the Lords Hightower, Peake, Dondarrion, Swann, Norcross, Florent, Redwyne, and Lady Tyrell gathered around. They had to really discuss how they were going to retake the initiative against the forces of Rhaenyra and the Rogue Prince, with their task made more difficult with the arrival of the northmen under Cregan Stark and the eventual coming of the Valemen from her Arryn cousins, with the Eyrie sending a full army this time. That put tens of thousands of troops under Rhaenyra’s command and with Daemon and Cregan among her many commanders, this war just became more difficult to conduct.

Joining them from a mere few days ago was Roland Westerling, overall commander of the westermen that Daeron was able to collect, alongside Lords Crakehall, Kayce, and their dear master of coin Ser Tyland Lannister who had finally decided to show himself after spending so much time overseeing affairs at Casterly Rock. _Too much time,_ Aemond thought.

As for Daeron, he was seated on the other end of the table, as he was to have equal authority in all matters of the war per his status as a prince of the realm, with their mother Alicent sitting beside him, content with listening. Criston Cole sat beside Aemond as Hand to the King, and given his additional position as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, all military matters would have to go through him before the Prince Regent is informed. That was an arrangement that Lord Dondarrion was clearly uncomfortable with, given that the Coles started out as his house’s stewards.

“Good of you to finally join us, Ser Tyland,” Aemond spoke to the master of coin. “I hope your nephew and good-sister are well.”

“They are, especially given their recent loss,” the Lannister replied.

“As I told you, my lord,” Daeron joined in. “You have our condolences on the death of Lord Jason.”

“And I thank you again, Your Grace,” Tyland answered Daeron. Aemond resisted scolding his young brother for speaking on his or their house’s behalf at that moment, but there were more important matters to discuss.

“My lords and lady,” Aemond addressed them. “This war is not proceeding in our king’s favor. King’s Landing has fallen, the riverlands have been taken, and the entire half of Westeros north of the Gods Eye save for the westerlands are under Rhaenyra’s control. Despite the death of the traitors Lucerys and Jacaerys and thus two of their dragons and in spite of our alliance with the Triarchy, we’ve made no significant progress. What’s more, the traitor Rhaenys has inflicted serious wounds on our king and with the Sea Snake on their side, there is no way to conduct an attack on the Blackwater Bay without suffering heavy casualties. In short, our position is not looking very good.”

“We are aware of the situation, Your Grace,” Lord Roland Westerling responded. “Why have you decided to remind us of the obstacles we face?”

“Be mindful of your tone, Lord Roland,” Criston Cole warned. “You are speaking to the Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm, endowed with all powers by his brother the King to act on his behalf.”

“In addition, you interrupted me,” Aemond added, his emphasis on the word “interrupted” causing a nervous reaction from the Lord of the Crag. “As this is our first time working together, I shall overlook it. But speak to me before I finish my words again, I won’t be so tolerant. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Lord Roland said in apology.

“As I was saying, our position is not looking very good,” Aemond continued. “However, since Lady Tyrell has come to her senses, the whole of the Reach is now on our side. Alongside the might of the westerlands and the stormlands, we have regained equal footing with the traitors. Not only that, our allies in the Triarchy have captured Viserys, son of Rhaenyra, and are now holding him in their territories. We thus have a hostage to use should the enemy get too bold against us. Given the changes, we must now use our advantages to their fullest potential. I now open this table for discussion.”

“Your Grace,” Lord Peake said quickly. “I wouldn’t be so confident in the entire Reach, my brethren, in joining with House Tyrell against the traitors of the realm.”

“Why is that, my lord?” Aemond asked.

“If I may be allowed to reveal to His Grace on what certain houses in the Reach, particularly those north of the Mander, have to say on House Tyrell joining the lawful king,” Lord Peake spoke carefully.

“You may,” Aemond crossed his arms.

“They say that you forced Lady Tyrell to join you and threatened Lord Lyonel, who will be our Lord Paramount and the next Warden of the South. They also say that you do not practice lenience regarding women and children and because of that, they don’t have any obligations to fight alongside House Tyrell after seeing your supposed coercion,” Lord Peake finished.

Aemond saw Daeron suck in a breath, nervous at the Lord of Starpike being so open in his outlining of the sentiments of certain houses in the Reach. “How did you come across that information, Lord Peake?” Criston inquired.

“I have an acquaintance in House Ashford, Lord Cole, who in turn has acquaintances throughout the northern half of the Reach. He has it in good authority that the Merryweathers and Caswells are among the houses in the northern Reach that will openly resist us should we try to move through their lands.”

Aemond remembered those houses. Their lords refused to submit to Aegon when he was crowned despite Rhaenyra being the heir and thus were imprisoned before being given to the King’s Justice. One of the Caswell bastards, Tom Flowers, was burned alive by Daeron at the Honeywine.

“Now do tell us, Lord Peake. Where is Lord Ashford at the moment?” _Surely, if he gave such a warning to an acquaintance, that means that he is potentially loyal to Aegon._

“He’s still at Ashford, Your Grace,” Lord Peake gulped. “He told me that given the destruction that has been inflicted on the kingdom so far, it is best if his family was spared from the fires and has declared neutrality.”

“Then they have committed treason, not just against their king but also against their Lords Paramount,” Aemond pointed to Lady Tyrell. “The word ‘neutrality’ does not exist while this war is raging and any house that doesn’t the call to arms will be punished.”

“Your Grace,” Lord Florent joined in. “I strongly recommend that House Ashford is allowed to maintain its current stance. It’s bad enough that we have to deal with people saying that our lieges were forced to enter the war. If you try to force House Ashford to pick a side, you’ll only be proving them correct.”

“I second Lord Florent’s words, Your Grace,” Lord Norcross concurred. “As you wisely explained to all of us, we are in a very delicate situation. We cannot afford to make any more houses turn against us. The Starks and the Arryns are threats that should not be taken lightly and we thus need to have all of the houses currently fighting for us to stay fighting for us while also showing respect to whatever stances they choose.”

“The words of someone not committed enough to fight for his king,” Lord Cole noted.

“I beg your pardon, my lord?” Lord Norcross turned his head to the kingsguard.

“I don’t know how many times Prince Regent Aemond has to remind you all that there is no such thing as neutrality in war,” Criston began. “Neutrality is the equivalent of not standing by your king, and therefore is treason. If houses can be allowed to not contribute their strength to the right cause, how can our king trust them?”

“With respect, Lord Cole,” Lord Peake leaned forward. “That kind of thinking will ensure people abandoning us because we cannot honor their wishes of not taking part in the war.”

“Then they shall burn also!” Aemond roard as he stood up. “The Merryweathers, Caswells, even the Ashfords… they want to fight against us or not support us, so be it. They shall see what the Field of Fire was like when my ancestors, whose crown I wear, burned Mern Gardener and his sons to ashes.” He turned to a scribe. “Send a raven to Ashford, which requests that his lordship be summoned to Highgarden to swear allegiance to the king and contribute his troops. If he doesn’t respond or refuses, he’ll be tried as a traitor.”

The vocal lords were shocked at how Aemond completely disregarded their advice, but the stormlords, westermen, and Lord Ormund Hightower remained silent as they gave their tacit approval.

“Now that issue has been settled, how best to advance on King’s Landing?”

“Your Grace,” Lord Swann spoke. “We must press an advance on the city as soon as possible. Once all of our banners have been assembled here at Highgarden, we should advance up on the rose road and strike at them before Rhaenyra and her troops have fully assembled themselves.”

“That’s all well and good, Lord Swann,” Lord Dondarrion answered. “But it’ll be unwise if we are to rest our hopes on one approach. If we are to assault the capital, we best do it from more than one direction. Since the approach to the sea is not an option, we should advance up the rose road and through the kingswood. Once our liege from Storm’s End musters enough troops, we can begin the pincer.”

“How many troops can Lord Baratheon muster aside from the houses represented here?” Daeron asked.

“Eleven thousand, Your Grace,” Lord Dondarrion said. “All of whom were able to be called up on short notice.”

“I see,” Criston tightened his lips. “It seems that the stormlands are not all prepared for a long conflict.”

“I would be wary of your words, Lord Cole,” Lord Dondarrion made clear of his displeasure of how his house’s former stewards addressed him and what his implications were. “You are from the stormlands yourself.”

“I might be, but my only loyalty is to House Targaryen, the rightful head,” Cole bit back. “And therefore, the Prince Regent’s concerns are mine also.”

Aemond fought the urge to scoff. _Had it gone another way, you would have declared for Rhaenyra. Everyone knows of the affection the both of you had._

“I am confident that Lord Baratheon will put in his best effort to help us,” Daeron controlled the discussion before it veered off topic. “After all, his daughter is betrothed to my brother the Prince Regent, so he has much to lose if he doesn’t help us.”

“Well said, Your Grace,” Lord Ormund Hightower nodded. “The bond between my house and House Targaryen was strengthened after my beloved cousin,” he leaned his head towards Alicent’s direction. “Married King Viserys. Surely, Lord Baratheon would not want such benefits to slip through his fingers.”

“Indeed, my lord,” Alicent affirmed. “But if I may, we must discuss another matter of importance. Rhaenyra’s brat Viserys.”

“What about him, Your Grace?” Lord Ormund asked.

“He needs to be brought under our direct control and given how the Triarchy especially hate Daemon, I am sure that we can reach favorable terms for his custody.”

“It won’t be as straightforward as that, Your Grace,” Lord Redwyne made his presence known. “I’ve dealt with the Triarchy before and they are a most slippery bunch. Even though he’s the son of a traitor, his blood is still worth something and they might ask for a price we’ll be hard pressed to pay when we have more urgent matters to attend to.”

“Surely, a fleet from the Arbor being sent around Dorne to the Triarchy might help improve our position,” Alicent offered.

“I’m afraid that they wouldn’t respond well to that, Your Grace,” Lord Redwyne answered. “In any case, they might fight us and reduce our strength greatly.”

“This coming from the man who commands a sizable sea host?” Lady Tyrell cocked her head in his direction.

“As you already know, my lady,” Lord Redwyne quickly answered. “The Red Kraken is much closer priority on this side of the continent. They’ve already begun to pillage the coasts of the westerlands and I have reports of ironborn ships being spotted near the Shield Islands. The protection of the Reach’s shores remains my highest priority.”

“And so it shall remain,” Aemond decided before he turned to Criston. “Send a commissioner to the Triarchy and ask them what their price will be in handing over Viserys. He’ll make a great hostage, just as my dear sister and niece are at the moment in King’s Landing.”

“I will, Your Grace,” Criston complied while Alicent hitched her breath at the thought of her daughter and granddaughter being Rhaenyra’s hostages.

They discussed more on what had to be done with the Red Kraken, with Aemond ordering Lord Redwyne to remain vigilant while cooperating with Lannisport. As for Roland Westerling, he was appointed a senior commander of the army despite both Aemond’s and Daeron’s personal misgivings. With the meeting concluded for the day, Aemond paced around the hall in thought while Daeron and Alicent remained sitting.

“Aemond,” Alicent walked up to him. “What are you thinking, dear?”

“How is Aegon, mother?”

“Recovering from what that bitch Rhaenys did to him,” Alicent ground her teeth. “As for Sunfyre, he needs time to recover before he can fly again, so our dragonkeepers say.”

“I see,” Aemond acknowledged.

“I know it might not be my place to say,” Alicent continued.

“Then why say it?”

Alicent was stunned that her son would speak that way to her, but she pressed on. “But perhaps… we can place Maelor in my family’s safekeeping in Oldtown. As someone who carries his blood, they’ll be more than willing to accommodate him. In addition, you should consider speeding up your betrothal to Lord Baratheon’s daughter and marry her to fully tie his house with ours.”

“Why bring those issues up now?”

“With Jaehaerys dead, Maelor is the next rightful candidate for Prince of Dragonstone. He must be kept out of reach from Daemon’s creatures and be given a proper education when the time comes. Also, it would do some good if we offer loyal houses a chance at a betrothal.”

“Mother, I wouldn’t recommend doing that right now,” Daeron said.

“And why not?” Alicent turned around to see her youngest son.

“Maelor is still an infant and he doesn’t have his mother now. If we suddenly put so much responsibilities on him at this stage, he might not be able to cope,” Daeron pleaded.

“It is a burden that must be carried by royalty,” Alicent coldly told him. “Surely, you understand that. Besides, it would do good if we had an heir that would continue after Aegon dies.”

“Why do you talk of our brother’s death, mother?” Daeron was taken aback.

“It is a possibility,” Aemond also turned to look at his brother. “As much as I love him, he won’t be able to return to governance for a while after making a full recovery. Someone has to take the reins in the meantime and groom the future Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Daeron’s eyes widened. “Why would you say that?”

“It’s the truth, Daeron. As much as it pains me,” Alicent sighed. “We have to keep going, because life moves on.”

“This is Maelor’s father you are talking about! You’re saying that you’re prepared to have my nephew, your grandson, without a father while he’s still alive?!”

“He is my nephew too, but mother is right,” Aemond crossed his arms. “And don’t raise your voice in my presence. It’s unbecoming of a prince of the realm.”

Daeron shook his head. “How could you be so… cold to Aegon and Maelor?”

“Because we must prepare for every possibility,” Alicent tried to explain to him. “And opening betrothals to Maelor at this point will encourage the houses under us to remain loyal, since our loss means no benefits.”

“Then it’s settled,” Aemond bobbed his head. “I shall open discussions of Maelor’s betrothal to any qualifying lady and he shall be put in Oldtown for his own safety. As for you, Daeron, you have duties to attend to with the army. I shall join you shortly.”

Daeron’s jaws tightened, tempted to say more but realizing more protesting his brother and mother would be pointless, he turned around and left the hall.

“He’s becoming too much of a liability,” Aemond told his mother.

“I will not have that talk. He is my son, as are you,” Alicent scolded him.

“But the fact remains that he is becoming less… trustworthy as this war continues. I feel that his stomach for this is disappearing with each passing moment,” Aemond continued.

“What do you intend to do?”

“Something that will make him still useful but having less potential to start trouble should his current direction persists,” Aemond concluded.

Alicent looked at her second-oldest son with some fear, but seeing the fiery pierce in his remaining eye, she backed down. “And what of Lord Baratheon’s daughter?”

“I shall fly to Storm’s End and see what that stag is doing. While I’m gone, I will leave you and Lord Cole to oversee matters here.”

“Of course, Aemond.”

“Good. Now please leave me. I must think.”

“As you wish, son,” Alicent ran her hand across his cheek before leaving the hall. As she did, Aemond was taken back to when everything really began to change for him, which was years before this war began.

_Aemond swung at the dummy Daemon set up with his training sword. With the Rogue Prince overseeing his swords training in the Red Keep, he began to teach his nephew how to treat a dummy as if it were a real person. He had heard many things about his uncle, but if his methods worked, he wasn’t going to complain._

_“Remember, Aemond,” Daemon pointed to the head and chest of the dummy. “These areas will for sure grant you a kill. You must not hesitate and you must be quick. Any delays when you engage in combat will result in death, so you have to kill without regard and kill quickly.”_

_That would have been useful with that bastard Lucerys, Aemond thought._

_“At the same time, a warrior must not seek to prolong pain. A man who wields a sword but doesn’t properly make a kill is not a warrior, but a butcher unfit to hold a tool as important as a blade.” Daemon unsheathed his dagger and stabbed where the heart and head were. “These are instant kills.”_

_“But why would I waste my time with trying to make a clean and quick kill, uncle?” Aemond asked, remembering his brawl with Lucerys and how he took out his eye. “If a foe causes me pain but doesn’t kill me, am I not obliged to return that amount of pain back?”_

_Daemon knelt down in front of Aemond, who was one and ten at the time. He smiled kindly. “You know, you remind of myself when I was younger.” Aemond gave a small grin before he saw his uncle turning serious. “Your thoughts just now… is this because of what Lucerys did to you?” He didn’t answer, but that wasn’t needed. He sighed. “I understand your need for satisfaction, Aemond. Believe me, I’ve had my share of those moments when I was in the Stepstones and when my brother, your father, said many things that I was… uncomfortable hearing.”_

_“My father said uncomfortable things to you?” That got Aemond’s interest._

_“Well… let’s just say that my current happiness was obtained very smoothly and I was intemperate in my younger years,” Daemon said cryptically, but Aemond knew that his father was more that displeased with him marrying his older sister, who he acknowledged as beautiful and the “Realm’s Delight” as his uncle called her. “But the reason why I’m saying this is because you should consider that the man you will kill might have a family of his own. Wouldn’t it be the greatest mercy of giving him a quick death so that he and his family will know no suffering?”_

_“Just like you did with the men you burned at the Stepstones?” Aemond asked pointedly._

_“I wasn’t as considerate as I am now, and I didn’t how precious life really was. It is an unfortunate fact of life that we have to kill to defend ourselves, however. But if you must do so, make it quick. That’s why you should endeavor to end whatever duels that come your way as quickly as possible. Do you understand?”_

_Aemond nodded, but he kept his hatred for Lucerys, for which he held no desire to make anything quick and painless, burning inside him._

_“Now, try it again,” Daemon pointed to the dummy._

_But before Aemond could strike at the heart and head, imagining Lucerys there, he saw Alicent and Criston Cole enter the yard._

_Daemon bowed. “Your Grace.”_

_“Prince Daemon,” Alicent addressed him reluctantly. “How are the sessions with my son going?”_

_“Well, Your Grace,” Daemon gestured to Aemond. “He seems to be conducting himself very well with the blade. Given more time, he’ll be a fine swordsman.”_

_“As I trust he will be,” Alicent smiled to Aemond before staring back at Daemon and the smile disappeared. “But he won’t get there because of you.”_

_“I’m sorry?” Daemon crossed his arms._

_“You will no longer oversee my son’s training sessions. Viserys and the whole of the Seven Kingdoms know your skill with Dark Sister, but I will not have the Rogue Prince teach my son his scoundrel ways.”_

_Daemon narrowed his eyes as he put his arms down. “Scoundrel?”_

_“My son was set upon by a scoundrel, but I will not see him end up as one,” Alicent cocked her head at Daemon. “Go back to Dragonstone, to Rhaenyra. I’m sure she misses your company there at the moment.”_

_“And who will oversee Aemond’s training?”_

_“That’s Prince Aemond to you, Your Grace,” Criston said. “I shall take over.”_

_“You? A tourney knight who isn’t aware of what combat is really like?” Daemon scoffed._

_“This tourney knight did beat you when King Viserys ascended to the throne and I am the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. My qualifications surely match your accolades,” Criston shot back._

_“But that was nearly twenty years ago. Much has changed since then and I have fought more men than you ever did in your life, Cole,” Daemon stepped closer to the kingsguard._

_“Because of your doings,” Cole shook his head. “You think that makes you brave?”_

_“You want to see for yourself, Cole? See if you can beat me?” Daemon was almost in his face._

_“That won’t happen here, Prince Daemon. The decision has been made and Lord Cole will watch over Aemond’s training sessions from now on,” Alicent interrupted them. “Now, off you go.”_

_Daemon scoffed before bowing. “As you command, Your Grace.” He looked at Aemond one more time before intentionally bumping his shoulder with Cole’s, hard, as he left the training yard._

_Aemond watched the Kingsguard approach him as Alicent watched. “Your Grace,” he bowed. “I’ve been appointed as your new instructor for the blade. I hope we can work well.”_

_Seeing Cole’s conflicts with his uncle and not liking what Daemon had to say about killing, Aemond grinned. “I look forward to learning from you, my lord.”_

* * *

“Your Grace, I present Ser Willam Royce, nephew of Yorwyck Royce, Lord of Runestone, and one of two appointed commanders acting on behalf of Lady Jeyne Arryn!” the herald announced.

Daemon stood beside Rhaenyra, as she sat on the Iron Throne and held court and oversaw another round of petitions. For this day, she was receiving representatives from the Vale, with the bulk of the Arryn bannermen due to arrive at King’s Landing by the end of the week. One such representative was Ser Willem Royce, the nephew of the current Lord of Runestone. It was no secret that House Royce was the most powerful house in the Vale, as the Arryns’ ascension to their overlordship from the Eyrie was made possible only with the defeat of the Bronze King. Even still, the Royces still held much influence in that kingdom and every Arryn ruler since couldn’t hope to have a smooth rule without their support. Given that, it was no surprise that the Royces, besides Lord Corbray currently quartered in the Red Keep, would represent the Vale in place of Lady Arryn.

Willam Royce bowed his head to Rhaenyra before giving a displeasing look to Daemon, which he brushed off. “Your Grace, let me start by congratulating you on the successful taking of King’s Landing. It is truly the gods favoring you, for such a city to fall with relatively little effort and with little casualties.”

“Thank you, Ser Willam,” Rhaenyra answered courteously. “And may I say that it pleases me to have a man of a house of your repute to grace these halls.”

“You honor me very much, Your Grace,” Ser Willam bowed his head again.

What made the day awkward, at least for Daemon, was that like Lord Corbray, Willam Royce did not share a very good history with Daemon. In his years of youthful intemperance, he had attempted to take Runestone as was his supposed right via his marriage with Rhea Royce. It didn’t take the smartest man in Westeros to know that their marriage was particularly unhappy and exacerbated his Rogue Prince tendencies. Eventually, Lord Royce, the uncle of Ser Willam, got the claim and Lady Jeyne threw him out of the Vale. Daemon did much reflecting from that time and having become a father, he realized how important one’s home was and thought of how he could have handled things differently. But he couldn’t afford to look contrite, as that would send the wrong message to their guest. _If time allows, I will arrange a private audience and see if we can work out our differences. Our issues could threaten our struggles against the usurpers._

“So, what news of the army from the Eyrie?” Rhaenyra asked.

“Your Grace, our commitment matches the one given by Lord Cregan Stark and will be enough to offset the balance in our favor against the usurpers,” Willam replied. “It‘ll also be enough to reinforce the Riverlands against the Lannisters should they try to strike back.”

“Very good, Ser Willam,” Rhaenyra noted. “I am glad that my cousin is showing how family bonds hold true through thick and thin. Please convey my thanks to her through a raven when you have the next opportunity and that there might be an additional reward waiting.”

“I shall, Your Grace,” Ser Willam affirmed.

“I also have one other task for you, Ser Willam,” Rhaenyra wasn’t finished.

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Cregan Stark is presently here,” she pointed to the Lord of Winterfell, who stood just below the Iron Throne.

“My lord,” Ser William dipped his head to Cregan.

“Ser Willam,” he acknowledged.

“I’ve already included him as part of the small council due to his merits against the usurpers’ forces in the riverlands. Besides that, I have appointed him a commander in my army. As the representative of the Vale alongside Lord Corbray, you shall have authority over my forces and consult with my consort Prince Daemon on all military matters. Your voice shall be heeded in all war councils,” Rhaenyra declared.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Ser Willam bowed again before he gave another uneasy stare to Daemon. The herald signaled for the Royce knight to step aside as he called upon the next petitioners.

“Your Grace, I present Ulf, Hugh, and Nettles, riders of the dragons Vermithor, Silverwing and Sheepstealer, for their investiture as promised by Prince Jacaerys,” the herald announced.

Rhaenyra nodded simply before she made clear her displeasure to Daemon. He sighed, understanding exactly what she felt. While Nettles was amiable, Ulf and Hugh had acted with such impetuousness that they were both relieved of their absence as they escorted the Vale army to King’s Landing. But they decided to arrive early and press their promised knighthoods and rewards. Since Jacaerys did promise their rewards on her behalf, she had to do it or her word will lose its credibility.

There were some whispering among the court as three riders, hailing from smallfolk and thus unfit to grace this court, came forward and knelt. The herald pounded his stick to bring silence before Rhaenyra stepped down from the Iron Throne, with Daemon accompanying her.

As she stopped in front of the three, Daemon gestured for Baela, who was also in attendance, to step forward with Dark Sister in her hands. Holding the sword out, he directed Baela to give the sword of Visenya Targaryen, which was also the name of his daughter. To the court’s surprise, the sword fit Rhaenyra very well despite her not holding a sword in public before. To Daemon, he began to see images of the original Visenya Targaryen flash through his mind and it added to his attraction to his niece and wife. _If only we were there during the Conquest…_

Dark Sister in her hand, Rhaenyra first went towards Ulf and tapped his shoulder, her face neutral. “I dub thee Ser Ulf the White, rider of the dragon Silverwing. Arise a knight sworn to House Targaryen.” Ulf, now Ulf the White, rose while wearing a cocky smile on his face, a smile that Daemon might have tolerated had it not been directed at Rhaenyra. The same happened with Hugh, who also looked boastful once he was knighted. _Careful, little boys. You are trying my patience,_ Daemon silently growled.

As for Nettles, she merely kneeled and rose silently as Rhaenyra honored her. But instead of a knighthood, she declared, “I dub thee Lady Nettles the Bold, rider of the dragon Sheepstealer and a shield of House Targaryen.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Nettles answered humbly.

“Sers Ulf and Hugh, for your service against the Triarchy and protecting the Vale army, I shall grant you lands along the Wendwater and an annual income of a thousand golden dragons for the maintaining of your dignity as knights of House Targaryen,” Rhaenyra had to keep her promises, thought it looked as if she was choking on them.

“We are deeply grateful, Your Grace,” they both slightly dipped their heads.

“For Nettles, I shall grant you an apartment right here in the Red Keep and make you a sworn shield to Baela Targaryen,” Rhaenyra moved on to her.

Nettles gulped, looking a little too overwhelmed. “Your Grace, I- I- I- I don’t know if I am qualified for such a responsibility,” she stammered

 _Poor girl,_ Daemon took pity on her. _She might ride a dragon, but she doesn’t really know what’s she doing._ “I heard about what you did regarding Sheepstealer, Lady Nettles. I’m sure your cleverness will come in handy with my daughter’s protection. You’ll be like Jonquil Darke to Alysanne Targaryen, my grandmother.”

“Your Graces are too kind, but—”

Rhaenyra raised her hand. “You’ll do fine here, Lady Nettles. And if you need anything, just ask me.”

Nettles curtseyed. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Does the same apply to us, Your Grace?” Ulf asked her.

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow. “If the situation is applicable, Ser Ulf.”

“Please excuse our inquiry, Your Grace, but as knights and riders of dragons, to whom shall we marry?” Hugh raised his voice.

The whole court whispered at his impertinence. Rhaenyra crossed her arms. “Why is that your concern, Ser Hugh?”

“We must spread our seed across the realm, so that the strength you have can expand,” Ulf answered. “But we can only do that with the proper lady.” He eyed Baela, instantly earning the ire from both her and Daemon. _The nerve on this bastard!_ Daemon took offence that an upstart eyed his daughter, but do it publicly was really testing his patience.

Rhaenyra also noticed that, causing her to scoff. “Is this how you behave after I just granted you a knighthood and lands to call your own?”

“We are dragons also,” Hugh told her. “Is this how you address those who carry your blood?”

“Ser Hugh, you are way out of line!” Daemon raised his voice. “When you speak to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, address her as ‘Your Grace!’”

“Is that the attitude you carried when you burned many to hell?” Hugh sneered, causing the whispers to morph into an uproar at the dragonseed’s insolence.

“Besides, it might do dragonriders some good if we were allowed beauties also carrying the blood of the dragon to bear our children,” Ulf eyed not just Baela but also Nettles and even Rhaenyra. Daemon felt some sort of protectiveness for the girl, more so after she stepped away from him in disgust. When his eyes focused on his queen, that was the last straw. _Oh, they die now!_

Before Daemon could snatch Dark Sister from his wife’s hand, Cregan stepped forward. “Your Grace, if I may say a word?”

The court quieted as the Lord of Winterfell made his presence known. Rhaenyra, Baela, Daemon, and the dragonseeds all turned to him. _Thank the gods for Lord Stark to calm the situation._

“You may, Lord Cregan,” Rhaenyra was almost relieved at how he stopped the situation.

“Disrespectful is insufficient of a term to describe the behaviors of Sers Hugh and Ulf and their words breach common courtesy, Your Grace,” Cregan spoke loudly so that the court could hear him. “Thus, it is only natural that they be put to death for their impudence.”

Everyone at court, including Willam Royce, nodded in agreement. _Ah, he knows the right course,_ Daemon thought happily as he was about to take Dark Sister from Rhaenyra’s hands.

“But?” she sensed he had something more to say.

“But their youths must be taken into account and their recent bonding with their dragons must’ve caused quite an inflation in their confidence,” Cregan stabbed at both Ulf and Hugh. The court chuckled, with Rhaenyra, Baela, and Daemon cracking a smile, while Ulf and Hugh became angry with the Lord of Winterfell and Nettles continued to look overwhelmed. “As they are young and full of hot temper, I propose a more effective solution to show them both how things among the grownups are conducted.”

Daemon became very interested in how Cregan worded it. “What do you suggest, my lord?”

“A melee,” Cregan answered. “It is a custom of the north to settle disputes through a strength of arms. While not as grand as a tourney, it is quicker and thus the disputes can be solved before the day is out. Although… I’m dubious as to how these boys,” he wagged his finger at Hugh and Ulf. “Can last against real men.”

“We fought against the Triarchy, Lord Cregan,” Ulf quickly took offense. “We have seen combat.”

“But you didn’t draw the blade yourself,” Cregan corrected him. “That’s what I want to see.”

“Suppose that I consent to this melee,” Rhaenyra was also interested. “What are the stakes?”

“Ulf and Hugh,” Cregan didn’t both mentioning that they were knights. “Will fight two of Your Grace’s champions in a contest of your honor, which they impugned just moments ago. If Ulf and Hugh triumph, they can begin making inquiries on who they want to marry and possibly start their own house.”

Daemon didn’t like where this was going. “And should my champions win?” Rhaenyra inquired.

“Ulf and Hugh must forfeit three-quarters of the lands you granted them, must get on their knees and apologize in front of all, and promise to never again make suggestions to Your Grace on their potential union on pain of their honor stained,” Cregan finished.

Daemon chortled. “I like those terms, Lord Cregan,” he then eyed dangerously to Hugh and Ulf, who looked uneasy at that prospect.

“And so do I,” Rhaenyra said while Baela looked smug. “Who do you suggest be my champions?”

“I volunteer myself,” Cregan answered, causing more whispers as a lord paramount never involved himself in this sort of matter. _But they forget that Cregan is a northman and therefore doesn’t do things how they are usually done here,_ Daemon thought.

But he also knew that Cregan was trying to prove himself to Rhaenyra, especially regarding his plea to keep the pact of ice and fire alive with the betrothal between their son Viserys and his daughter Sarra Stark.

_“If I do this, my lord,” Rhaenyra said in the small council chamber. “I have to know that the northmen will continue to march with us.”_

_“If you agree to this, Your Grace,” Cregan pleaded her. “Then they will fight to the best of their abilities, since the north will now have a stake, a tangible one, in the Seven Kingdoms. The northmen will take a greater interest in affairs of the south, and they shall be a great asset to shoring up your reign.”_

_“A betrothal is not something to take lightly, as you know,” Daemon told him. “While we are bound by Jacaerys’ words to honor it, the rest of the realm might not react well.”_

_“You mean the ones who are not loyal to you?” Cregan asked in derision to the implication of the stormlanders, westermen, and Reachmen being offended. “By the time we are through with them, Prince Daemon, they won’t be able to fight us without causing more damage onto themselves. In addition, but with respect, why would they care about Prince Viserys if Prince Aegon is still alive? Your eldest son, the one with the Targaryen name, will be the main prize once this war is done and the second son less important. It’s the least politically expensive choice you have and both of us can benefit.”_

_Rhaenyra sighed, seeing that he was not going to budge. But she also saw that Cregan did achieve high merit and knew that House Stark had to be rewarded for all the help they gave once this war was done._

_“Continue to serve us well, Lord Cregan, and I shall approve of the match,” Rhaenyra finally offered. “You have my word.”_

_Cregan nodded gratefully. “And you have mine to serve you to the best of my abilities.”_

_Daemon looked at Rhaenyra, surprised at how easily she consented. But seeing the Lord of Winterfell’s determination must’ve stirred powerful feelings in his wife and queen and she couldn’t deny him anymore._

Going back to the present, Daemon saw Rhaenya also nod her consent for Cregan to fight as her champion against Ulf and White. “And who shall my second champion be?” But seeing her turn and look into his eyes, Daemon knew the answer to that question.

“I will, Your Grace,” Daemon bowed his head. Rhaenyra grinned widely as she handed Dark Sister back to him.

“Then, this melee shall commence in the training yard. If there are no more petitions or ceremonies to look over, I hereby announce the end of court for today and shall see my champions fight for my honor,” Rhaenyra signaled the herald, who concluded the session.

Later in the training yeard, Ulf and Hugh stood with their swords drawn on one side while Daemon and Cregan assumed their positions on another, Dark Sister and Ice glistening against the sunlight. Ulf had training with the sword courtesy to his former position as master-at-arms for House Bar Emmon of Sharp Point, as evident from his pose, but like Hugh, he had no combat experience prior to arriving on Dragonstone and taming his dragon.

Daemon looked to his left at Cregan, whose eyes gave off a frosty ambiance as he gripped Ice, the Valyrian steel sword of House Stark. Larger than Dark Sister, the sword looked proper in the hands of the Lord of Winterfell. What was more impressive was that he decided to wear his heavy northern fur cloaks in the still hot weather of King’s Landing, which spoke much of his personal confidence. _Very good,_ Daemon thought admiringly. _He must know his own strengths and limitations._

“You don’t have to do this, Lord Cregan,” Daemon leaned closer to him. “Why are you helping me?”

“I wouldn’t call myself a man if I just let an insult to my queen go unanswered,” Cregan simply replied.

“Besides being my queen, she is my wife,” Daemon pointed out. “I have more reason to defend her honor against these two upstarts. Are you doing this because you want to score more merit with my wife?”

“Let’s just say that… their words brought me back to when my uncle tried to take Winterfell from me and this is part of how I heal from such a betrayal,” Cregan answered straight.

“I see,” Daemon now understood. _Any man who is willing to go against family to keep what is his is definitely a strong man in my book._

“You can start, Your Grace,” Ulf offered.

“I trust that this will end pretty soon, Prince Daemon,” Cregan gripped Ice tigther.

“I believe it will,” Daemon raised Dark Sister. “As the elder ones, we’ll let the young ones begin. Make it more even,” he poked at their inexperience.

It seemed Having experienced the humiliation of being a blacksmith’s bastard, Hugh charged forward with Ulf joining him, but the two experienced swordsmen reacted quickly and stepped aside.

Daemon focused on Ulf while Cregan focused on Hugh. Ulf kept two hands on the hilt of his sword, which was the strongest indicator of his training. But he was still an amateur, from how he tried to swing his castle-forged steel sword.

Their two blades clashed against one another, ringing throughout the training yard as everyone, Rhaenyra, Baela, and Nettles including, watched with deep interest. Daemon wrenched Dark Sister upwards and to the right as they hit one another, but Ulf was already struggling under the power of his strikes. Stepping backward, he got his footing back before charging again, this time trying to stab at Daemon’s torso. However, he saw that coming from a mile away and spun around the dragonseed as he missed his mark. Ulf’s style relied more brute force, as he tried to use his sword as one would use a club, swinging hard at his opponent in the hopes that one of them will deliver a blow. One of Ulf’s swings, which Daemon avoided, slammed so hard into the ground that it rang throughout the yard, while another collided with Dark Sister and the steels sounded off. While being able to avoid that blow, he felt his hands starting to shake a little. _He might not have good technique, but he has heavy hands,_ he observed.

Bringing his sword in an upward stance, Ulf stabbed forward, but having duly adjusted to the dragonseed’s strength, Daemon caught his blade, twirled it around with Dark Sister, and made him lose his grip. What he knew and Ulf didn’t was that the joints in a man’s body were usually the most vulnerable parts, knowledge that Daemon used when he decided to twirl his Valyrian steel sword while grabbing Ulf’s wrist, bending his hand downwards, and using the back of his own hand to grab hold of the dragonseed’s sword’s hilt. To everyone’s expectations, the sword was thrown out of his hand as Daemon pulled it away from him before he struck him in the forehead with Dark Sister’s hilt and brought him to the ground.

For Cregan, Ice’s greater reach made his duel with Hugh also end quickly. Being a blacksmith’s bastard made him more endurable in contests of strength, but Cregan was not about to waste his time with that insolent bastard. Hugh acted like a bull would against another, trying to strike against the Lord of Winterfell by using his sword as a hammer. But each time Hugh swung at Cregan, he dodged it and allowed the dragonseed to become slowly exhausted, made evident by how he was losing his breath and sweating profusely. Pushing Ice against Hugh’s sword, he brought its hilt up and also struck him in the forehead while kneeing him hard in the gut, causing him to fall down and catch his breath.

Daemon was very tempted to pierce Ulf with Dark Sister, but Cregan quickly walked up to him and whispered in his ear. “We’ve done enough, Your Grace. We’ve proven our point. But if we proceed further, it’ll send a bad message, essentially that we kill people for slights. People still remember you as the Rogue Prince, so we cannot afford that.”

Seeing the sense in Cregan’s words, Daemon willed his temptations away before sheathing Dark Sister. Seeing the Lord of Winterfell spit in Hugh’s face to show his utmost disrespect, he followed his example and also spat in Ulf’s face. The crowd cheered as the two newly anointed knights remained lying there in the training yard, utterly but righteously humiliated.

As Daemon walked back to Rhaenyra, he saw Baela holding Nettles arm tightly and saying reassuring words to her. They must’ve worked, as the girl was much less nervous than before. _I shall have words with Lady Nettles later._

But now, his focus was on Rhaenyra. She looked happily at him, as she had just witnessed her prince and husband defend her honor so publicly. But more than that, he saw her eyes filled with lust. _Here we go again,_ he thought happily.

He and Rhaenyra gave one last look to Cregan, who was conversing with other lords and ladies congratulating him. They nodded in his direction, with Cregan bowing his head in response. “It seems that Cregan will get his just reward, particularly the betrothal,” Rhaenyra remarked.

“He should,” Daemon agreed, now seeing how loyal their Warden of the North really was to them. _The Starks shall be close to us for a long time after this, all thanks to Lord Cregan._

Rhaenyra and Daemon laid together in the bed, with Rhaenyra congratulating her husband for putting Ulf and Hugh in their proper place and then showing her gratitude through her body. After Daemon exerted himself in pleasing his queen, she took the initiative and rode her prince as she did many times before. Eventually, they got tired and took in their sweaty scent, something that they had grown all too familiar with.

As she ran her fingers along his well-built pectorals and he along her spine, she began to reflect on how Ulf and Hugh behaved in court. For some reason, it reminded her of Jacaerys and Lucerys in their younger years, both of whom began to exhibit troubling traits early on.

_Rhaenyra shouldn’t have been surprised when she saw Jacaerys emerge from the brothel at Dragonstone, but it still disappointed her to see her son become a whoremonger. “I’m being careful, mother,” Jacky answered._

_“You’re wasting your time by doing this,” Rhaenyra scolded. “You are my eldest and you are a prince. I don’t care who you carry on with as long as you show up for duty every morning. And you haven’t been doing that.”_

_“Give me some space, mother. I need a break,” Jacaerys shrugged._

_“I’m giving you your space and breaks, but that appears to not be enough.”_

_“Look, mother. I haven’t fathered any bastards. I made sure. And I know that I have to meet with grandfather later today. I’ll get on Vermax and fly there. I know what my schedule is,” Jacky tried to assure her, but it didn’t work._

_“You know, Jacky, you’re not the first prince to be in a whorehouse. But you’re not taking your station seriously. If you wish to be my heir, you will behave accordingly,” Rhaenyra commanded._

_“We’ll talk about this later,” Jacky brushed past her._

_“No, we’ll talk about it now!” she yelled, but Jacky ignored her and got on Vermax’s back, flying off to Driftmark._

_But her headaches hadn’t stopped there. Lucerys was in the town square at the base of the Dragonmont, offering silver stags to whoever could beat him. As someone trained by the best House Targaryen could afford, no one could best him. Everyone in the square bowed their heads as Rhaenyra stopped what he was doing. She then gave everyone silver stags, preventing a lot of hurt feelings from the smallfolk, before turning to Lucerys._

_“What in the world are you doing, Luke?”_

_“I was bored in the training yard, mother. I wanted some sport,” Luke answered._

_“Is this what you consider sport, Luke? You being put in a position where you can take from people less fortunate than yourself?” Rhaenyra might have been disappointed with Jacky, but what Luke was doing was obscene._

_“It’s just some silver stags, mother.”_

_“And that’s as much as these people would see in an entire moon,” Rhaenyra reminded him strongly. “You’re showing to them all the worst aspects of princes and you are also not making yourself popular. No matter what others may say, we need to have the people supporting us, or we would not be in a secure position.”_

_“Mother, I’m just having fun.”_

_“At others’ expense!” she shouted suddenly. “You cannot do what you always want, and you have to be better than this. We’re royals and it’s a duty, and one of them requires us to be caretakers of the people. You are not doing that right now.”_

_“Mother, I don’t care,” Luke shook his head._

_“What did you say?” Rhaenyra walked closer to him._

_“Why should we care about what wretches think? You didn’t, when you married Lord Flea Bottom.”_

_She slapped his face hard, not realizing what she did but was too angry. “Don’t ever call him that.”_

_Lucerys scoffed while rubbing his cheek. “Looks like you really do love him, and my half-siblings more than you do us.”_

_“That’s not true. I do love you and your brothers,” Rhaenyra came closer to him, but he stepped back._

_“No, I don’t believe you. But don’t worry. I’m old enough to understand. And I was not blind to see that you didn’t love my father. However, don’t talk like you care for me, because you don’t,” Luke turned around and walked back to Dragonstone, leaving Rhaenyra stunned._

“What are you thinking about?” Daemon asked her.

“The last time that I talked with Luke,” Rhaenyra felt a tear fall from her eye. “The last words that I had said to him.”

Daemon kissed the top of her head. “It wasn’t your fault. We say things that we don’t mean to say and Luke was just confused. I’m sure that if he came back, he would have said sorry.”

“And now I won’t ever,” Rhaenyra’s voice cracked.

“What’s on your mind?” Daemon whispered.

“How Ulf and Hugh acted in court today… for some reason, I was reminded of Jacky and Luke,” Rhaenyra admitted.

“No, no,” Daemon took her face in his hands and looked her straight in her eyes. “Those fucks are nothing like Jacky and Luke. At least they knew what a mother’s love was like, unlike Ulf and Hugh. Although I have to remind myself that Jacky put them near us in the first place, so who’s more at fault there?”

“But every time I looked at them, I could only be reminded of who their father was, their real one,” Rhaenyra thought of Criston and how he almost forced himself on her while trying not to think of Jacky’s responsibility in bringing in Ulf and Hugh and thus causing those problems. “Jacky and Luke were more like him than I ever dared to admit. I thought I had more time with them, to correct them. However, Jacky will always be remembered as the whoremonger and Luke will always be remembered as the one who took Aemond’s eye.”

Daemon sighed, not denying Rhaenyra’s statement. But he kissed her head again. “It wasn’t your fault, Nyra. You tried and you showed them love. I know that no words can ease your heart on their passing. However, where they are now is better than the hell that we are in. And what people think? Sometimes, I say, ‘fuck what they think.’”

Rhaenyra snorted at her prince’s coarseness.

“Also, the first time that I really got to know Joffrey, he reminded me of another young dragon. That one begged me to take her to see the dragons in the dragonpit and all I could do was to say yes,” Daemon told her of that sweet memory that long ago. Rhaenyra also remembered and she giggled into his shoulder.

“What you think is important, and no one else’,” Daemon continued. “They will be your sons always and nothing else should matter,” Daemon put his lips on her forehead to further comfort his niece. “Although… I sometimes wish what would have happened had Luke not have taken Aemond’s eye.”

Rhaenyra knew that deep down, Daemon was sad about how things turned out with Aemond, as his time as his personal sword tutor was cut short by Alicent and Criston. _Had Daemon been there longer, at least he would not have been subjected to the toxicity of Criston's presence. But what's done is done._

Rhaenyra returned the favor and kissed his eyes before straddling his waist again and rubbing his cock. “Forget about that for now, my prince. Focus on me,” she sensually rubbed her breasts before taking his hands onto them. She moaned loudly as they made love again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aemond is showing what kind of leader he is, which will not bode well for the war. And that flashback shows the history between him and Daemon, but it also demonstrates how tragic their relationship was, for I believe that Daemon and Aemond were mirror versions of each other but Aemond was cursed by youth in that he was still impressionable and those who influenced him were quite greedy and malicious. 
> 
> Daemon still has it while Cregan is really establishing himself in the south. And we have our first real introduction to the dragonseeds, at least the ones who had the most influence of the non-Targ dragonriders and the rotten bunch. Also, the flashback with Lucerys shows more tragedy, for the times prior to the Dance demonstrated that there was no turning back for the halves of House Targaryen. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed it. See you next time!


	9. Struggles Amongst Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys. How are you all doing? 
> 
> Been doing some soul-searching as of late due to the pandemic, as well as starting a new job. But I will continue to update this story. And hopefully, at least for the ones in America, things will calm down and we can regain some normality through all of this craziness.

Daeron sat across Ser Myles Hightower, commander of the City Watch of Oldtown and his distant relative, and Ryam, the seneschal of the Citadel. The city was on edge, especially with the war raging across the realm and King’s Landing in Rhaenyra’s control, even though much of the population was removed from the fighting.

“I must congratulate you on your victory at the Honeywine, Your Grace,” Ser Myles began. “My lord cousin was very wise to deem you worthy of knighthood and name you ‘the Daring.’”

“Thank you,” Daeron answered.

Well, my business with my dear cousin shan’t be long, Daeron thought.

“So, what brings you here, Daeron the Daring?” Ser Myles tried to flatter him, but he was not in the mood to accept such praise.

“First, I shall discuss the condition of the portion of the treasury within Oldtown’s vaults,” Daeron said. “Then, I shall like an update on the condition of my nephew, Prince Maelor.”

“With respect, Your Grace,” Ryam asked. “Wouldn’t that matter be under the purview of Ser Tyland, the Master of Coin?”

“Ser Tyland has more pressing matters to attend to at Highgarden. As I am here at the moment, updating my brother the Prince Regent on the treasury is merely a convenience,” Daeron answered, but without revealing anything that could indicate that relations between those in command were strained at best.

“Of course,” Ryam nodded.

“And with respect, Ser Myles,” Daeron turned to his distant relative. “Where’s Ser Gordan, the castellan for the Hightower? I would expect him to be here since he would have more... awareness with how the crown’s gold is maintained in the midst of this war?”

“Ser Gordan is currently occupied at the moment, Your Grace,” Ser Myles told him. “As I am a member of House Hightower, which makes us family, whatever concerns you have with our affairs will have to discussed with me.”

Daeron didn’t like the situation. Although Ser Myles was family, his current posting was with Oldtown’s City Watch and was only a cousin to Lord Ormund. Therefore, he had no real business in knowing what was in the vaults and especially the condition of the treasury stored there.

“If Ser Gordan is currently occupied at the moment, I can wait,” Daeron decided, surprising both Ser Myles and Ryam.

“As I said, Your Grace, he’s currently occupied,” Ser Myles repeated.

“With what exactly?” Daeron asked.

“He is... at the Shield Islands, preparing our defenses should the Red Kraken strike at our lands.”

Daeron blinked, with one eye narrower than the other. What in the hells? “How is the Red Kraken representing a threat against Oldtown?”

“We’ve received reports of the Greyjoys’ activities near Lannisport. We thought it prudent to prepare accordingly,” Ser Myles tried to explain.

“Did you get orders from Lady Tyrell to do so?” Daeron asked, but already somehow knew the answer.

“We had to prepare our own measures, given that our Lord Parament still has a regent,” Ser Myles explained.

“So you acted without orders from your liege lords but decided that the Greyjoys, who are a long ways from here, are a threat to take care in your own?” Daeron tried to understand, but couldn’t.

“With respect to Lyonel Tyrell, he’s but a babe, still taking comfort from his mother’s teats,” Ser Myles spoke candidly. “Given the times we’re living in, we have to protect our own lands and keeps on our initiative.”

Daeron narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

“What he means by that, Your Grace,” Ryam joined in. “Is that given the split in central authority between the traitors and the Prince Regent, is that as the commander of the City Watch and the Hightower in charge of Oldtown, he has the responsibility to keep the city and its surrounding territories safe from all threats.”

Daeron became more confused. “Do you have approval from Lord Ormund to act on his behalf? Both of you?”

“We’re family, Your Grace, just as you are,” Ser Myles.

“Let’s get one thing, absolutely clear,” Daeron was tired of how Ser Myles assumes that they had a close relationship. “We might have similar blood running in our veins, but my family is House Targaryen. I am the blood of the dragon and I am a prince of the realm, and you will speak to me as such. Do you understand?”

Ser Myles sighed before nodding. “Yes, Your Grace. Thank you for clarifying what our relationship really is.”

“And let me remind you of the consequences of acting without leave from your lord. Lord Ormund might be family, but he is ranked above you while you’re just a knight. And Lord Ormund is sworn to House Tyrell. Unless you give me proof that you are authorized to send, say Ser Gordan, to the Shield Islands, which is a long way from Oldtown and thus outside your jurisdiction, I will report this to both my brother the Prince Regent and Lady Tyrell. I’m sure that they will something to say about your conduct,” Daeron continued.

“Forgive us, Your Grace, if we were merely to take measures for our own protection,” Ryam offered, which only annoyed Daeron.

“And let me ask you this, Maester. Since when did the Citadel become involved in the matters of a lordly house without clear instructions from the head of that house?” Daeron turned to the Citadel’s seneschal.

“The security of the Citadel relies on the security of Oldtown,” Ryam replied. “It is my duty as the seneschal to ensure that the Citadel continues to have a working relationship with the City Watch and that the city itself is protected.”

“I’ll dispel you of such notions, Maester,” Daeron shook his head. “Unless explicitly called upon, the maintenance of the security of Oldtown rests solely on the Lord of House Hightower, not those living inside it or those distantly related,” he turned to Ser Myles, who became very irritated. _That’s going to be a problem_. “And the security of the city is also the responsibility of House Tyrell and thus your rightful king. Don’t concern yourselves with matters that you have no business knowing, and that goes for the both of you. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” both answered reluctantly.

“Now, if Ser Gordan is occupied in the Shield Islands, tell him to come back and report to me. Unlike you two, I have clear instructions from my brother the Prince Regent to report the situation of the treasury housed in the Hightower’s vaults. Until he arrives, I shall wait here,” Daeron made clear his position.

“Him coming back to the city might take a week, Your Grace,” Ser Myles tried to explain, which Daeron waved off.

“Then, that’s something that you’ll have to elaborate for the Prince Regent, the Queen Mother, Lady Tyrell, and the Hand of the King and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Criston Cole,” Daeron said dismissively. “After all, they won’t blame me since I don’t know what’s been going on in Lord Ormund’s absence.”

“I shall send a raven recalling him, Your Grace,” Ser Myles acquiesced, with the same reluctance evident.

“You do that. And now onto the other matter. How is my dear nephew settled in the city?”

“Very good, Your Grace,” Ryam was glad that the discussion switched direction. “He has been housed in the Hightower and I have assumed the responsibility of overseeing his education, alongside his appointed nurses. I must say that it is a welcome change of pace.”

“Why is that?”

“Your Grace, being a seneschal is thankless work. I am not directly involved in cultivating knowledge, which was the main reason why I got my maester’s chain in the first place,” Ryam told him.

Daeron sensed another inconsistency. “If my nephew has been under your care and Ser Gordan is not at the Hightower at the moment, who is protecting the fortress and the future king of the Seven Kingdoms?”

“I am, Your Grace,” Ser Myles sheepishly answered.

Daeron groaned, as this was the latest of his distant cousin’s shortcomings all in the span of a few moments. “All right. From now on, I shall move into the Hightower in Lord Ormund’s absence and personally see to my nephew’s welfare. The castle’s household knows me and since I am a prince of the realm, it won’t be hard for me to look over my nephew and the fortress until Lord Ormund comes.”

“But, Your Grace, what about your duties at the front?” Ser Myles asked.

“Worry about Oldtown and its safety within its _immediate_ boundaries,” Daeron reminded him strongly.

“I wouldn’t say that even the Hightower is safe for Maelor, Your Grace,” Ryam warned him.

“Why?” That got Daeron’s attention.

“Well, there’s been talk of unrest within the undercity, talk of a man urging harm onto you and the dragons for being abominations against the gods,” Ser Myles explained.

“And where did you get this information?” Daeron had to know.

“I have a few people in that section of the city, Your Grace,” Ser Myles answered.

“Keep me updated and send me daily reports to the Hightower,” Daeron ordered him, which he complied with a bow. “As for me, I shall walk around the city a bit before I travel to the fortress.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Your Grace?” Ryam asked with a hint of worry, but just a little. “I’ve heard talk of this man also and it’s possible that his influence might spread outside of the undercity.”

“Worry about the Citadel itself, Maester,” Daeron told him again. “And in the future, unless told otherwise by me or those belonging to a station like mine or Lady Tyrell’s, do not concern yourself with other matters you have no business knowing. Understood?” The master dipped his head, while Daeron took his leave.

All of this seemed very off for Daeron as the main barracks for the City Watch of Oldtown. The wrong Hightower was in charge of the Hightower, the treasury in its vaults, and the security of the city at the same time while Maester Ryam was involved with his nephew Maelor without being instructed to. Also, the castellan of Hightower was not where he was supposed to be and with the rumors of a man acting against them from the undercity, it all led to Daeron not seeing Oldtown as it once was. _The war might be a good explanation, but there’s a stench going on and I have to get to the bottom of it. Looks like my exile in all but name will be quite busy for me._

Daeron turned to look at The Citadel which was located upriver on both sides of the Honeywine. Boys and men had gathered there from all over Westeros for many centuries in the hopes of learning, studying, and forging their own maester's chain. People in Westeros saw the Citadel as the greatest seat of knowledge in the known world, while a few others who actually had experience with them knew things about the maesters that most were unaware of. “Good thing that I’m not part of those men,” Daeron said to himself. “I might not savor combat as much as Aemond, but I would rather do that than be stuck in a room for hours while waiting for boredom to wither me.”

Oldtown was a max of intersecting alleys and narrow and crooked streets, with markets dotting each of them. Among these markets included the Thieves Market and Ragpicker's Wynd with the former being named for how many thieves were punished from stealing. The whole city was built with stone, with all of its streets cobbled, which could become wet and slippery if the day was damp. This also applied to the bridges, with the exception of some made of wood that could be found if one looked carefully. Characteristic of a city of this size, Oldtown was enclosed by massive and thick stone walls.

Upon arriving at Oldtown, Daeron expected the city to be smelling as flowery as a perfumed dowager. His mother told him that during the summer, the city steamed and sweltered under the light of the sun, but the city was just as alive at night as it was during the day. He also expected there to be shrubbery dotted with melons, moonbloom, nightshade, peaches, and pomegranates. 

However, when Daeron came to squire with Lord Ormund, he found himself to be massively disappointed with the seat of his mother’s family. While he was still impressed with the stone structures of Oldtown, the city smelled like shit and the only shrubbery he could find was within the gardens of those who could afford them. Even though people went about their business during night as much as during the day, the streets were littered with piles of feces, both from animals and humans, and all of them flowed down into whatever holes it could find. _The only difference between King’s Landing and this place is that the latter has been around longer._

Daeron passed by the various small isles located in Oldtown, all of which were connected by bridges and could be reached by small boat. He remembered going to The Quill and Tankard an inn that stood on its own island in the Honeywine, and moving along the river road that ran beside the river through the heart of the city. West of the river, the guildhalls lined the river’s bank, which Daeron was told to steer clear of as people of his station were not supposed to mingle with the merchants. The same applied to the rat pits and black brothels that were located in the undercity, of which he only heard rumors of. _Can’t be that much different to Flea Bottom in King’s Landing._

Walking downriver, Daeron soon came across the Starry Sept, which was raised on the command of Lord Triston Hightower, his ancestor. It served as the seat of the High Septons for a thousand years before his ancestor Aegon the Conqueror swept through Westeros, which made the city the center of the Faith for all of who practiced it. And here the Faith continued to be concentrated, as Maegor the Cruel burnt the Sept of Remembrance with Balerion during the Faith Militant uprising and the Faith’s had remained largely absent from King’s Landing despite the actions of Jaehaerys the Conciliator. The massive building was built with black marble walls and arched windows, with mansions of the pious, particularly one for the High Septon, were located near it.

While Daeron grew to appreciate the gardens of the Starry Sept, which could be filled with hundreds coming there to worship, he was immediately confused as to why the High Septon, a man supposed to be pious and committed to the faithful, lived in a place which had possessions that would have allowed smallfolk to live comfortably for several lifetimes. “The Faith are the gods’ instrument amongst us all mortals and the High Septon is their messenger. It’s only right that he be compensated and taken care of as the gods’ speaker,” Lord Ormund merely replied.

 _He lives like a king and only lacks a crown,_ Daeron silently scoffed. Although not as pious to the Faith as his mother was, he did find some comfort in a few of their beliefs, such as how the Warrior would grant the bravest victory even in dire straits. But his trip to Oldtown was very eye-opening in terms of how he saw the religion practiced by his mother and what exactly she saw in it. _The Doctrine of Exceptionalism might protect Maelor, but what’s to stop the septons from preaching against his existence in private nonetheless?_

Besides the Starry Sept, at least seven more septs honoring the Seven, built on the command of Lord Damon Hightower, another among his ancestors, could be found nearby. These included the Sailor's Sept down by the harbor, the Lord’s Sept, and the Seven Shrines in their gardens across the Honeywine. Also nearby was a motherhouse, a place where future septas were trained and where Maegelle Targaryen also became one while Saera Targaryen ran away. _If I had seen what Saera had seen earlier, I wouldn’t blame her. This is one of the most gilded places I’ve ever lived in._

Finally, Daeron made his way down by the wharves, where temples that provide services for foreigners, such as Summer Islanders and red priests of the Lord of Light, could be found. He didn’t think much about those that follow other deities such as R’hllor, but that didn’t mean that he had an absolute hate for those that didn’t follow the Seven as some deities did. It was certainly what he felt, albeit very minimized, when he began to squire in Oldtown. _Even though I follow the Seven, I felt as if they saw me as the enemy or someone who didn’t belong._

Of course, Daeron would be remiss if he didn’t see the mighty Hightower, a massive stepped lighthouse located on Battle Isle, where the Honeywine widened into the Whispering Sound and where it lay in the center of the city. The Hightower had a great beacon on top, which showed ships their way to port. People liked to say that the Hightower was the tallest tower in the world, higher than even the seven-hundred-foot Wall in the North and manned by the Night’s Watch. _But people only say that when they haven’t seen others._

Daeron had heard about other structures that were supposedly higher than the Hightower. Although he hadn’t personally seen it, such suppositions helped make the belief that the Hightower was the tallest structure lose its credence. _Maybe will have to travel outside of the Seven Kingdoms once this is all over._

He sat by the wharf, taking the time to reflect on the discussion with Ser Myles and Maester Ryam. There were too many gaps in Oldtown to have just resulted as a consequence from the war and the wrong people were involved in areas that they were not supposed to be in. _I have to send a raven to Aemond, mother, and Lord Cole. They might know what to do, even though I might not like what they have to say._

He also looked forward to spending some with his nephew Maelor, who must be confused as to what his happening around him. He didn’t know that his mother was a captive, his father was wounded, and his older uncle exhibiting his ruthless side. _For now, he shall be the babe that he should be,_ Daeron decided. _Others might not care for him as much as they should, but I’ll be damned if I fail him now._

Daeron had to be the family Maelor needed. _What would Helaena say to me if I didn’t?_

* * *

Baela held baby Visenya in her arms, cooing at her little sister while pinching at her red cheeks. With her violet eyes and silver hair evident, with her having the cheeks of her father, it was clear on whose child it was. _But why should I have doubts?_

Her twin Rhaena on the other hand was watching over little Aegon and little Jaehaera as they were playing with wooden figurines together. Both were quite good with kids, having learned from when Rhaenyra gave birth to Aegon and Viserys, but Baela wanted to get to know her baby sister after only arriving to King’s Landing recently. _I don’t mind my brothers, but I am very happy to have another sister._

When Baela turned to Aegon, she saw him being hesitant with a wooden dragon and even flinching at the mere sight of it. She sighed, knowing that whatever happened near Driftmark will always be with him. _But he’s a dragon. He shouldn’t be afraid of the mounts we have._

Jaehaera grabbed the wooden dragon away from his reach, eagerly flying it around her. “Do you like dragons, Jaehaera?” Rhaena asked her with a warm smile.

Jaehaera, only ten years old and her and Baela’s cousin, was small and slow to grow. But her petite frame added to her adorableness, further enhanced when she nodded eagerly.

“Would you like to ride one someday?” Rhaena pinched her cheek.

“Yeah,” Jaehaera answered eagerly.

“Tell me what kind of dragon that you wish to have,” Rhaena wanted to continue.

“I want a dragon that is big, fast, and loves me,” Jaehaera tenderly rubbed her cheek on the wooden dragon.

“I’m sure that whatever dragons you bond with will love you very much,” Rhaena kept grinning. “It’s in our blood after all.”

“Do you have a dragon?”

Rhaena exhaled sadly. “I wish. But my sister Baela,” she pointed to her twin. “She has one.”

“Do you?” Jaehaera’s eyes sparkled.

Baela nodded. “Her name is Moondancer,” she kept holding Visenya. “She’s a green dragon and I’ve only begun to mount her.”

“What is she like?” Jaehaera wanted her cousin to indulge her curiosity.

“She…. understands me, like all dragons do with their riders,” Baela tried to explain. “It’s a bond that cannot be described in words. You have to know yourself to really get it.”

“I can’t wait when it’s my time,” Jaehaera was thinking about being a dragonrider. _Hopefully like Visenya and Rhaenys of old, or maybe even Alyssa and Alysanne._

“What about you, Aegon? You like dragons?” Rhaena wanted to include her brother. He just remained silent, looking into the distance that only he could see through the wall. “Aegon, don’t you want to hold this dragon?” Rhaena offered him another wooden dragon. That made her brother tremble and breath more rapidly than before. Before he began to hyperventilate, with the dragon triggering some strong memories, he turn around and face away from her. “Aegon, you can’t just be like this forever. You have to talk to us. We’re family.” Their brother still remained quiet, frustrating Rhaena’s attempts. Baela cleared her throat, getting her attention so that she could shake her head.

“Let him be,” Baela mouthed.

“He has to talk to us,” Rhaena mouthed back.

“We can’t force it. He’s our brother and we must give him his space if he wants it. Let muña take care of it when the time is right, for we can only do so much.”

Rhaena wanted to do more, but seeing how right her twin’s words were, she let her brother be and continued to play with Jaehaera.

_Please, whoever is up there, please let him speak eventually. If not us, then let him speak with muña._

“Where’s my muña?” Jaehaera suddenly asked, throwing both Rhaena and Baela off-guard. “I heard people say that she’s a bad woman and is evil.”

Rhaena shook her head, trying not to have her cousin be affected by such strong feelings. “No, no. She’s not a bad woman, Jaehaera. And she’s still here. Do you want to see her?” Jaehaera pursed her lips as she bobbed her head. “Well, Jaehaera, I’ll talk to you aunt Rhaenyra and maybe, we can arrange something.”

“Is my kepa still here?” Jaehaera threw them off guard again.

“No, he’s not,” Rhaena answered.

“Good,” Jaehaera answered, startling both of them.

“Why?” Rhaena didn’t expect that.

“I hear them fight sometimes, when they think I’m not around to hear them,” Jaehaera kept looking at the wooden figurines.

“What do they fight about?” Rhaena was trying to be careful, as she was touching a very sensitive spot.

“Last time that I heard them fight, muña said to kepa, ‘You keep humiliating me and you expect me to stay in bed with you?’”

Rhaena shared a glanced with Baela, both of whom were troubled at their little cousin already experiencing what unhappiness in marriage looked like.

“I don’t know why she said that, but I know that they hate each other,” Jaehaera twiddled with her fingers while still holding the figurine.

“I’m sure that they don’t hate each other. Parents fight often,” Rhaena tried to comfort her, but her cousin shook her head.

“I did see my kepa enter his bedroom with another woman, and they were pretty loud,” Jaehaera closed her eyes.

Baela’s eyes softened, as did Rhaena’s. _Oh, no. She already saw the older Aegon be unfaithful._

Rhaena didn’t know what to say, but she had to stop her cousin from being so gloomy. “Hey, how about we go to the kitchens? Maybe there will be some sweets waiting for us.”

Jaehaera beamed. Aegon also put his head up. _Best way into a child’s heart is through their belly._

“Then let’s go,” Rhaena urged them both up and they followed her, but she glanced back at Baela.

“I’ll join you soon. Let me see if I can get Lady Nettles to join us,” Baela handed baby Visenya to her twin.

“Okay,” Rhaena nodded while pinching Visenya’s cheeks, causing their sister to gurgle happily. “I’ll see you there.”

Baela went to Nettles’ apartment on the far side of Maegor’s Holdfast, which was just below Lord Cregan Stark’s. Her respect and admiration for the Lord of Winterfell grew considerably after he helped her father defend her muña’s honor when Ulf and Hugh had dared to make bawdy suggestions in court. _She might not be the woman who gave birth to me, but she treated me like I and Rhaena were her own. So, she is our muña. But I don’t know what Vermithor and Silverwing saw in those two bastards._

Knocking on Nettles’ door, she stepped into her chambers. She found the rider of Sheepstealer sitting in a chair, her hand on her growing belly. Baela looked at her sympathetically, as she was seduced by Jacaerys even though he was already married to Sara Snow. Fortunately for her, Rhaenyra promised to take care of her and the child since it did carry her blood. _Jacky might not have been very pleasant to be around, but I’ll make sure that his child won’t make the same mistakes,_ Baela promised herself.

Nettles saw Baela enter her chambers and was about to stand up and curtsey, but Baela bid her to sit down. “No, no. Please sit. You need it.”

“What brings you here, Your Grace?” Nettles asked her.

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to have sweets with us. My sister Rhaena, my brother Aegon, and my cousin Jaehaera are in the kitchen right now,” Baela sat beside her.

“Is it proper for me, a common girl, to eat with royalty?” Nettles kept rubbing her belly.

“I’m sure that my nephew or niece might like it,” Baela put her hand on her belly, causing Nettles to shift. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing, Your Grace,” Nettles shook her head. “I… don’t know if I can carry this child in me.”

“Why do you say so?” Baela was surprised.

“I knew that Prince Jacaerys was married, but I let him have his way with me. I’ve been such a fool and now my child will never meet his father,” Nettles closed her eyes in despair, causing Baela to hold her hand.

“It’s okay, Nettles,” Baela shushed her. “And to be honest, I don’t really care. You have a babe with the blood of the dragon in you and just like the Queen will take care of him or her, I will do the same also. You have my word.”

“Why?” Nettles was surprised at how much kindness she was showing.

“Because… I know how life is precious and it’s something that I wish to share with someone I love,” Baela admitted.

“You have someone in your life, Your Grace?”

Baela smiled sadly. “I just wish he’ll stay alive and we can see each other again.” She didn’t want to get into the details, as it was very hurtful. “Now, how about some sweets? I’m sure the babe will like it, as I said.”

Nettles nodded. “I’d like that very much, Your Grace.”

As Baela led Nettles down to the kitchens to get sweets, she remembered the last time she had her love in her arms, the last time before all of this happened.

_She saw the stag grazing form a bush, being very careful as to not alert her prey. Hunting was a pastime that took hours and required the keenest mind and senses to pull off effectively. It was an activity that was highly looked down upon whenever women were participants. If Alysanne Targaryen could hunt, then nothing from the seven hells could stop me from doing this, she thought._

_It was after she had turned three and ten. King Viserys had arranged for a family retreat in the kingswood after seeing that relations among especially his sons and grandsons were still strained. Criston Cole and her grandfather the Sea Snake separately suggested that a hunting trip in the kingswood, where only members of House Targaryen and others that carried the blood of the dragon could attend and spend the next week without having to worry about the politics of the Seven Kingdoms. Being a man who loved his family, her uncle the King eagerly chose to do that and thus sent invitations to Dragonstone and Driftmark._

_Although supposed to be a private event, it was the first time in over a decade where all of House Targaryen and those with the blood of the dragon had assembled, with the last time being the fifth anniversary of Viserys’ and Alicent’s wedding, the time when she wore green and Rhaenyra wore black. Baela, like everyone else, didn’t know that was when everything would begin to change for the family._

_To no one’s surprise, the first day of the retreat had more than a few rough patches, particularly between Aemond and her Velaryon half-brothers. Old insults remained between them and Viserys had to personally step in to prevent Jacaerys and Aemond from coming to blows over the most trivial matters, which included who was better at falconry. I could overcome the both of them on any day, Baela mused, but didn’t dare make her thoughts known. Aemond was very quick to anger and she knew that she wasn’t going to win in a match of strength with the One-Eye._

_As for Criston Cole, Baela saw him stealing glances at Rhaenyra as if in longing. She didn’t know what exactly happened between them, but she was sure that whatever feelings that might have developed when he was her sworn sword still lingered. Not that it mattered anyway, since she saw how happy her muña and kepa were._

_Alicent’s eldest Aegon, her cousin, was an embarrassment, as he looked nothing like a dragon would and struggled to mount his horse despite the presence of Sunfyre. And that’s the son that everyone expects to overtake my muña? Baela wanted to scoff, if it didn’t offend her uncle and wouldn’t cause Alicent to lash out, thus making things more complicated._

_But her eyes fell on Daeron, the youngest brother and her cousin by Viserys, as he had just arrived from Oldtown with his cousin Lord Ormund Hightower accompanying him. The boy she had kissed in the Dragonpit, the only boy born of the Hightower woman that she grew to like, and the boy who had grown into a strapping man and on his way to becoming a great knight. His sharp jawline, his deep eyes, muscled arms and calves, chiseled core evident through his tunic… The years in Oldtown have been very kind to him, Baela observed admiringly. I hope he remembers me._

_Her worries were soon to laid to rest when Daeron acted nervous around her, averting eye contact while also smiling. Wanting to see that she wasn’t seeing things, she put her hair back and ran her hand along her neck, exposing her skin to his eyes. Seeing him steal a few glances made her overjoyed. So he does remember, she thought gleefully._

_Going back to the stag, Baela prepared her arrow and drew back on her bow. Taking in a few breaths in and out to steady her aim, she let the arrow fly and saw it hit its mark, the neck. Seeing it fall to the ground, she emerged from her hiding place and slowly made her way to her kill. But before she did, she heard a few squeaks and turned to see two bear cubs walking nearby._

_Her blood running cold, Baela knew that the mother bear had to be around her somewhere. Suddenly, a roar broke out behind her, causing her to turn around. Soon enough, she saw a huge black bear charging towards her, seeing her close to her cubs as a threat. The mother bear was going too fast and the distance was closing, not enough time for her to raise her bow. Given the size of the bear, it wouldn’t have made much difference. She reached out to Moondancer. Girl, save me! But preparing herself, she closed her eyes and thought of Daeron._

_Before the bear could claw at Baela, it howled in pain as a spear stuck into its side. Opening her eyes, she swore that she was seeing things, but blinked and there was Daeron pushing the bear away with the spear he had. “Get away from her, you beast!”_

_Like the annoying stories of knights coming to save the woman, here was Daeron being her knight, saving her in the nick of time. Shaking her head to come to her senses, she raised the bow and let loose an arrow at the bear, hitting it square in the shoulder. It bellowed in agony, but the two dragons seemingly being a threat to her cubs only had the strikes make her angrier._

_Daeron rushed to Baela’s side, putting down the spear and drawing his sword. “Get behind me,” he tried to push her behind him before she pushed his arm away._

_“No, we take it together,” Baela insisted as she nocked another arrow._

_However, the mother bear would not get another chance to strike, as two dragon shrieks came from above. Looking up, she saw Moondancer and Tessarion descend through the canopy and landed in front of their riders. Although Moondancer was still not large enough to ride, she could release dragonfire._

_The mother bear was defiant to the dragons, as it held a position in the forest’s pecking order and thus did not back down easily. It roared at the dragons, causing the dragons to hiss._

_Daeron and Baela shared a glance before nodding. Hopefully, the cubs are strong enough, she wished. “Dracarys,” they both said._

_Tessarion and Moondancer unleashed a combined stream of fire onto the bear, with cries of pain replacing its malevolent grunts. It wasn’t long before the bear was no more, merely a pile of ashes._

_Daeron and Baela turned to each other, still a little shaken by the ordeal. But feeling the longing that they held ever since the Dragonpit, they pulled each other close and kissed. Their kiss became sloppier and deeper, with their hands moving across their backs and garments, and would have gone longer had it not been for their dragons chirping._

_Sunfyre and Syrax were not known for being amiable with each other, which reflected Aegon’s and Rhaenyra’s growing animosity. However, the same couldn’t be said of Tessarion and Moondancer, who were at least cordial with each other._

_“Don’t be scared,” Baela teased him after seeing his curiosity at how their dragons interacted with each other before pulling into another kiss, this one lasting longer and the quietness of the forest added to the moment’s serenity._

_Their dragons rose up in the sky again and they both decided that it was better to not take their chances given their recent encounter. But before they had to separate once they reached the camping ground, Baela enjoyed how much time she was enjoying with Daeron at her side._

_At the same time, given the bad feelings between her father and his mother, she would have thought that Daeron had a bad impression on her since the youngest was always the most susceptible to a mother’s influence. “Daeron, I want to ask you something.”_

_“Of course,” Daeron kept walking alongside her._

_“I saw you looking at me since we were kids, but not the kind of looks between just family. And you allowed me to kiss you three times, the last one being quite… lovely, if lacking a better word,” Baela hesitated at the last part. But she also saw how Daeron blushed and failed to hide it._

_“I liked it too,” he said, making her heart flutter before she regained focus._

_“May I ask… why do you like me?”_

_Daeron laughed nervously. “Do you need to ask that?”_

_“I like you too, Daeron,” Baela confessed. “But I have to know what you see in me.”_

_He sighed. “First time we were in the training yard, you wrestled me to the ground.” Baela remembered clearly doing that and feeling overjoyed at being able to play with boys. “I’ve met many girls and then ladies over the years, both at court and at Oldtown. All of them were pretty, talked nicely, could dance and sing, and so on. But I saw something that they didn’t want me to see, something that I saw in Aegon.”_

_“What would that be?”_

_“Whenever they approached me and tried to say that they wanted to know me, I knew in my heart that they were being fake,” Daeron shook his head. “They only wanted to know me because I was a prince, I could ride Tessarion, and I was the most agreeable of my brothers. They saw a charming knight riding on a white horse and that’s all they saw. They didn’t want to know me for who I really am and what I really cared for.”_

_Baela could understand Daeron’s frustrations, as those were feelings that she had to put up with from many lordlings seeking her hand. “That must’ve been tiring.”_

_Daeron nodded. “But with you, you didn’t care. You beat boys in wrestling out of all things, and you showed them that you were not some… fragile flower. You’re not afraid of anything because you just do what you want to do, just like with Daemon and Rhaenys.”_

_Baela was dumbfounded. “You think I’m not of afraid of anything? Who do you think I am?” This was probably the first time she was vulnerable with Daeron. “I’m scared of a lot of things.”_

_Daeron grinned. “And that’s why I like you. I’m scared of many things too, and there’s only one person that I want to be scared with together. And that’s you.”_

_Baela stopped to turn her face to Daeron, before grabbing his shirt and forcing another kiss on him. Once they got out of breath, they rested their forehead on each other’s. “And I want to be scared with you also.”_

_Daeron embraced her and they laid their arms on each other’s shoulders before they reached the camping ground. Placing a kiss on his cheek, Baela was sad to see Daeron return to the green side before she had to go to the black side, dreading what might have happened while she was out hunting._

_Sure enough, she saw Jacaerys with his face covered with bruises and his left eye swollen, both of which were caused by a blunt impact._

_She turned to Lucerys, who also sported a cut across his cheek. “What happened to the both of you, Luke?”_

_“That son of a bitch Aemond. He had his eye on Jacky’s hunting spear and wanted it for himself, but he wouldn’t let go,” Lucerys spat venomously. Of course, Baela thought._

_“And you fought him also?”_

_Lucerys nodded. “I jumped on his back and bit his head. He then drew his dagger and slashed across my cheek,” he pointed to the cut. “I look forward to the day that I have Aemond’s corpse in Arrax’s jaws.”_

_Baela admittedly wanted that to happen, as Aemond was showing himself to be quite merciless, as his beating and near killing of sparring partners in the Red Keep had become common knowledge within the family._

_“I wish the same for that pig Aegon and the little man Daeron,” Lucerys added._

_Baela was offended at how Lucerys described him. “He’s older than you, Luke, so he’s not little.”_

_“Not by much,” Lucerys spat back. “And I’m sure Arrax can take on Tessarion as easily as I did with Aemond.”_

_“Come now, Luke,” Baela crossed her arms. “You know that Arrax is still growing. And please don’t say that. Someone might be listening.”_

_“Let them,” Lucerys scoffed. “Better that those three cunts are dead and thus allowing mother to become queen, and I as a prince.”_

_“Shhh!” Baela shushed him. “If your grandfather heard that you say that, you’ll be in big trouble.”_

_“Oh, and we’re supposed to cower in front of Aemond?” Lucerys was offended at that prospect, which Baela didn’t suggest. “Sometimes, I wonder if you’re more like your dead mother than your rogue father.”_

_Instinctively, Baela slapped Lucerys hard in the face, causing him to fall off the stool and shocking both he and Jacaerys. “How dare you! You might have come from muña’s womb, but that gives you no right to talk however you want.” She grabbed Lucerys’ collar, but he resisted and tackled her to the ground after getting her hands off._

_To their surprise, Rhaenys entered the tent to see on her grandsons, but was surprised and then ashamed at her children fighting. “What is this?” she asked, fire clear in her eyes._

_“Nothing, grandmother,” Lucerys said. She turned to Baela._

_“He talked of my muña, the first one,” Baela answered. That was all Rhaenys needed, as Lucerys was not known for holding his tongue._

_“Outside,” she pointed outward while speaking to Lucerys. “I’ll deal with you later.” Lucerys complied, not daring to disobey his grandmother, before giving another look to Baela._

_“Hand me that rag and some wine, will you?” Rhaenys asked her, both which Baela gave before her grandmother tended to Jacaerys’ wounds._

_“Please forgive Luke, grandmother,” Jacaerys pleaded her._

_“I will speak to him later,” Rhaenys told him as she rubbed his cheek with the wine-soaked rag, causing him to flinch from the sting. “Shame. This is Dornish red. And Baela, try not to fight with your siblings. You might not like them, but they are family. And we must try to value that when others are trying to do us apart. Understood?”_

_Baela sighed, not liking her grandmother’s words, but heeded them nonetheless. “Yes, grandmother.”_

_“Now, go to Nyra’s tent. I’ll tell her of what happened myself after we have eat supper.”_

_Baela looked at Jacaerys one more time, who silently apologized for Lucerys’ words with his good eye, before leaving. As she walked to her muña’s tent, she prayed, Please protect Daeron. Let not Luke’s words and threats come true._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daeron is in Oldtown protecting his nephew Maelor, but Ser Myles Hightower has been introduced and he's as slimy as they come. And quite a gall on him, considering that in canon, Ser Myles was very much responsible for stealing the portion of the treasury deposited in the Hightower. Also, tensions are high in the seat of the Hightowers, but can Daeron protect Maelor from those that wish him harm? 
> 
> Baela and Rhaena watching over Jaehaera and little Aegon was fitting in my opinion, especially since Jaehaera witnessed the chaos of her parents' marriage and Aegon is traumatized by what he had saw. But Jaehaera is adjusting well, and she'll need to in the future. Meanwhile, Baela is enjoying a good friendship with Nettles. 
> 
> Now, for the Baela/Daeron flashback... I felt that more background was needed to explain how they finally got romantically involved. The hunt in the kingswood was something I came up with, as Viserys' last attempt to unite his family. And the bear scene was inspired by the Revenant, only what if Hugh Glass had a dragon? The question is whether Daeron and Baela will finally reunite again. 
> 
> See you next time.


	10. Green on Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How you all doing? Going through some more stuff recently, but for my American readers, I hope you have a good Thanksgiving!

Lord Royce Caron rode on his horse alongside his personal guard and the rest of the middle guard as they advanced up the kingsroad and had just entered the kingswood. Their goal: to take the seat of House Wendwater, which sat on the confluence of the river that it assumed its name after and the stream that joined into the main waterway. The kingsroad passed by that convergence and so, anyone looking to move on King's Landing had to pass there.

At the same time, Lord Caron knew that the enemy were also aware of this fact and would no doubt exploit it to their advantage. With the capital in the enemy's hand, the situation for those under the banner of Aegon the Second of His Name was turning from bad to worse with each day that passed.

The Lord of Nightsong was given command of over nine thousand men, ranging from houses such as the Swanns, Mertyns', Morrigens, Wyldes, Peaseburys, Staedmons, Penroses, Cafferens, and especially those sworn to the Carons. Although small for its size, it was a force that was representative of all of the stormlander houses. All were well-armed, led by men who had experience fighting against the Dornishmen as they had for over a thousand years, and all highly loyal to the Lord of Storm's End, who in turn was loyal to the King Aegon and his Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen.

_I have to admit that Lord Borros being able to secure a betrothal between Lady Floris and the One-Eyed prince was quite clever for someone who can't even read. But I worry about the former squire of the Rogue Prince more, especially due to his… anger._

Lord Caron couldn't claim intimate knowledge of what went one between the Rogue Prince and the One-Eyed prince, but from their reputations, they seem quite similar to each other. The Rogue Prince was not known for his mercy, and he surely must've left quite an impression on the young boy before Criston Cole took over his training. _Don't know if the spawn of a steward is proper enough to train a prince of House Targaryen._

Most worrisome, Aemond seemed quite… detached when he ordered Lord Caron to march on the Wendwater. "Take your men and attack the enemy. Press the initiative, Lord Royce," he said with such nonchalance.

"With respect, Your Grace, I don't believe it's that simple," Lord Caron tried to reason with him. "We have to conduct planning, send scouts, ascertain the enemy's strength."

"You questioning my orders, Lord Caron?" Aemond took offense at the Lord of Nightsong dissenting with him.

 _He may be the Regent, but he's just another green boy who doesn't understand proper battle planning._ But he dared not make those thoughts known, as Aemond was right in front of Vhagar, who was looking for any signs of his rider's growing displeasure.

"No, Your Grace. I will see your orders carried out," Lord Caron feared for his life.

"Good. Either you come back in triumph… or don't."

Lord Caron sighed, since he had a sense that things would become much worse if they simply advanced on the Wendwater without proper preparation despite the motivation and equipment of the men he commanded at the present. _What is my goodson thinking?_ he thought of Lord Borros, who was married to his daughter Elenda.

Adding to his difficulties was the absence of his good friend, the Lord of Stonehelm. Lord Swann chose to have his son and heir Lord Casper act on his behalf, as he needed to remain at his keep in case the Dornish try to attack again. _It's always good to have a friend close in times such as these. And we have to move fast to keep the situation from getting worse,_ Lord Caron thought.

Suddenly, the Lord of Nightsong heard yelling where the advance guard of the army would be. _What's going on?_

A rider, bearing the sigil of House Wylde, rode up to Lord Caron. "My lord, Lord Wylde's men are engaged with the enemy."

There were murmurings among the soldiers, all of them not expecting to fight the enemy until much later. "What is the size of the enemy force?"

"Lord Wylde estimates at least five thousand men. He was able to see the banners of Karstark, Royce, Bolton, and Redfort among others," the rider answered.

 _Seven hells. Four of the major houses of the North and the Vale_ , Lord Caron thought quickly. He was especially nervous about the Boltons, as their reputation was known even in the Dornish Marches.

"Ride back to Lord Wylde and tell him to hold his ground. We'll join him momentarily," Lord Caron ordered the rider before he galloped off. Turning to the middle guard, he shouted, "Formations! Prepare for combat!"

The men-at-arms raised their shields, the common footmen readied their pikes, and the knights dismounted their horses and unsheathed their blades, as fighting on horseback was not ideal when it came to combat amongst the trees.

As for Lord Caron, he might have been past his prime, but he would be damned before his men saw him as someone who couldn't fight. Dismounting his horse, he adjusted his helm and drew his sword from his scabbard as he walked amongst the formations, looking each of them to make certain that their minds were alert.

He continued to hear the fighting near the front, and then screams that almost sounded feral-like. _Lord Wylde must be having it difficult there. He must hold while we prepare to move forward._

But before he could say, "Forward march," he caught leaves rustling on the flanks of his middle formations. From his experiences at Nightsong, he knew that those rustles could only be made by man and not beast, instantly causing alarm in his mind as those sounds were happening in a forest and thus blinding to them to where their foes were.

Without warning, there were yells coming from all over the flanks, causing Lord Caron's troops to glance around nervously. Some of the men were wavering from their places in the formations, with only the serjeants forcing them back to their places. "What kind of men are we fighting here?" Lord Caron whispered to himself as quietly as possible.

Looking back to the north, he saw men bearing the sigil of House Wylde among others come rushing towards the middle guard. _What's going on here?_ His questions were answered when he looked upon the armored form of Lord Wylde, his armor dented and bloodied as he struggled to maintain his hold on his horse.

"My Lord Wylde, why are you here?" Lord Caron looked up to him.

"We fought as best as we could, but they charged at us with armored knights and northern cavalry. They also took down many of our own with pikes and arrows already, so we couldn't hold them," Lord Wylde explained frantically.

"Damn!" Lord Caron cursed. "Reform your formations and stand guard."

"My Lord Caron," Casper Swann walked up to him. "Shouldn't we advance forward? We have to stop the enemy from holding the initiative."

"Move forward? In the middle forest and what happened to Lord Wylde?" Lord Caron asked rhetorically as he gestured to the yells that were continuing to be bellowed out. "We have to hold our positions here and wait for them to come to us. Otherwise—"

He heard one of his troops scream out, and looked on in shock as he fell down, with an arrow lodged in his throat. More arrows were released, peppering the formation and felling more of his troops in the process.

"Take cover!" Lord Caron shouted, keeping his head down to avoid the arrows while Lord Wylde and Casper Swann did the same. "Keep your shields up! Keep formations!"

 _If we can just hold, they'll be forced to fight us. If they fight us, we might have a chance since we have armor and steel weapons,_ Lord Caron hoped.

Sure enough, the stream of arrows ceased, and a brief lull held over the anxious stormlanders, who kept their pikes, swords, and shields at the ready. From how the Dornishmen fought, there was usually a pause before the great clash. The Lord of Nightsong tightened his hands on the hilt of his sword while trying to control his breathing, as a lack of it would cause too much fear to enter his mind and thus jeopardize his ability to command. _I can't have that now._

"Charge!" a voice from the trees cried out as hundreds of men, all clad in northern armor and cloaks, emerged from the tree line and collided into the shielded formations. Due to their initial momentum, they were able to push some of the shield-wielding stormlanders with such force as to disrupt the formations temporarily.

Glancing quickly at the northmen, he couldn't see their sigils. But judging from how they dressed, he could tell that they were not traditional northern forces. And from how small some of them looked, he surmised that they were crannogmen, men from the swamps of the Neck in the North, guardians of the great fortress of Moat Cailin among their duties.

 _Great, we're dealing with those who know how to fight in terrain such as this_.

Seeing a crannogman charge up to him with a spear in hand, Lord Caron parried the spear before striking his forehead with the hilt of his sword and running him through. He also saw a northerner run towards him, him wielding an ancient iron sword and a dirty fur cloak. Unlike the crannogman, the northman was able to last longer with the Lord of Nightsong, swinging hard as the elderly Lord Caron struggled to hold him back.

The northman saw an opening after Lord Caron parried an upward strike, which he used to push against him with his shoulder and knocking him to the ground. Before the northman could get the drop on him, he was stabbed in the back by Casper Swann, who pushed the dead northerner away and helped up his father's friend.

"You all right, my lord?" Casper Swann asked with concern.

"Just keep fighting, boy," the Lord of Nightsong dismissed. "I'll be all right."

Despite the onslaught from the crannogmen and other northmen attacking their flanks, with Lord Caron himself having to survive more close encounters as he turned around constantly to avoid sneak attacks, the formations held well.

"Stay in your positions, men!" he called out. Since the crannogmen and northmen that were attacking them had lighter weapons and armor, there was a temptation amongst some of the troops to push forward using their heavier weight. However, as they were in forest, they couldn't afford to be separated. "Keep together!"

After an extended period of close combat, he could see that the crannogmen and northmen were about to get exhausted. _They should know that northerners are not meant to survive this far from their frozen wasteland,_ Lord Caron thought confidently.

But before he could celebrate and start to press his advantage, a runner approached him. "My lord, the northern and Vale cavalry have come! They're charging at the remains of our advance guard!"

Eyes widening, Lord Caron looked back north. Sure enough, he could see the banners of the houses of Karstark, Royce, Redfort, and Bolton crashing into the front. As most of the formations were engaged on the flanks, the advance guard didn't have the backup to withstand the northern and Vale mounted forces as they charged.

That was when Lord Caron figured it out. _So, they attacked us from the flanks and getting us distracted while their initial attack continued._ And given especially the crannogmen's ability to fight in inhospitable areas, it was a good plan, whoever in command formed it.

Lord Royce was about to issue another order to reform their lines when he felt an arrow pierce into his side. Crying out in pain, he looked to his left and saw that the arrow had gotten into one of the vulnerable parts of his armor, the unprotected armpit, and was lodged between his ribs and near his lung. Collapsing onto the ground, Casper Swann knelt down and put his body on him to protect his father's friend.

"Anyone! Help me with Lord Caron!" the heir to Stonehelm pleaded, with two stormlander pikemen obliging. They got him back onto his horse, which was unfortunately noticed by some of the serjeants and other commanders.

Seeing their appointed leader wounded and being led away to safety, and with northern cavalry approaching them while the arrow volleys resumed, the stormlanders began to march backwards towards the southern bank of the Wendwater.

Lord Caron then felt difficulty breathing while his chest felt sore. He kept his head down on his horse, with Casper Swann escorting him while getting the army to withdraw in good order. As they fell back to the Wendwater, they continued to hear northern war cries and hear the gallops of northern and Vale horses gaining on them and cutting down those unlucky to straggle behind.

"We're almost there, Lord Royce. Just hold on," Casper Swann implored. Seeing his father's friend struggling, he pointed to the nearing river. "Look! We just need to get on the southern bank, and we'll be all right."

Lord Caron grabbed the breastplate of the heir to Stonehelm. "If I die, Lord Casper, you take command. Lead them to Bronzegate and tell Lord Borros what happened."

"Don't say that," Lord Casper didn't want to accept it. "We just need to go a little further."

"Just say you heard me!" Lord Caron barked.

"I heard you. Now, come on."

As Lord Casper said, they were soon on the southern bank of the Wendwater. However, their breather was cut very short, as more northmen emerged from the treeline. They were bearing the sigil of House Dustin and an old man armed with a mace and a shield while blowing on his war horn. From what he remembered from how the Lannisters were defeated, he was facing Roderick Dustin, the old Lord of Barrowton whose age did little to diminish his lethality in battle.

Seeing their commander in trouble, dozens of stormlanders met their new adversaries head on, but despite their armor and superior weapons, they struggled under the ferocity of the men who fought for Lord Dustin.

Lord Caron saw Lord Dustin strike a man across his face with his shield, causing blood to spill out of his mouth before pushing him down into the water and caving his face in with his mace. He used his shield to strike at another man, causing him to fall over and crushing his head with the same shield.

More of the northmen, especially the crannogmen, poured through the trees and rushed into the river, stabbing or striking any stormlander they could see. As they were fighting within the Wendwater and on both of its banks, the formations had collapsed and thus turning the withdrawal into an all-out fight. But the stormlanders had panicked and without their commander to direct them, they slowly began to crack under the pressure. With the northern cavalry coming from the north, it was only a matter of time before they would be mopped up.

Seeing the battle turn into a bloodbath for his men, Lord Caron could only think of one solution. "Casper, get out of here!"

"No, my lord! We have to go together!"

"Do as I say, boy! Go to Bronzegate and—"

Just before he could finish his final command, a roar pierced through the chaos of the battle. Hearing loud flapping of wings and seeing a shadow past through them, Lord Caron looked up and saw a large dragon bearing down on them. Judging from its size, he could only surmise on which dragon was it. "Vhagar…" he whispered in fear of Visenya's mount.

Without warning, Vhagar unleashed her flames and bathing northman, Valeman, and stormlander alike in fire. Screams replaced war cries as the once pristine Wendwater was soon stained with the touch of blood and charred flesh.

Seeing Vhagar turning around to make another pass, he slapped the behind of Casper's horse, sending it and its rider towards the southern bank and a larger chance of survival. From how his lung was filling with blood and seeing the battle turn against him, there was only one way that this would end for the Lord of Nightsong. He closed his eyes as Vhagar opened her mouth and flames could be seen coming from her throat.

 _I have failed you, goodson,_ were his last thoughts as the last feeling he felt was the touch of fire on his skin.

* * *

Aemond sat in the hall of Bronzegate, looking upon the various commanders whose armors were blackened by the soot from the fire unleashed by Vhagar. _Well, at least that were able to make it out alive._

As he was the Prince Regent for Aegon, he sat where Lord Buckler would usually sit and Lord Borros Baratheon if he had ever made his progresses to the lords sworn to Storm's End. But all of them were strangely quiet even though they had much to discuss regarding the war.

"Why so silent, my lords?" Aemond began. "There is still much to be done and we have to press our advantage straight to King's Landing now." He was met with more silence, which started to increasingly irritate him. "We have succeeded today, my lords. The northmen and Valemen have been repulsed and our lines in the kingswood are secured from the enemy. We must advance while they are still weak."

The lords continued to stare into the air, clearly reeling from what he had done while flying on Vhagar's back. _Don't they realize that had I not fly in and burned the woods with some of our troops still in, it would have been a clear defeat?_

Aemond stood up from his seat, losing his patience at the quietness of the hall. He paced around the hall, staring at each of the lords' in their eyes in order to get their attention. "Lord Jason Lannister is an example that you should all follow. He died for the king and that is death all of us can hope for. He exerted himself to the best of his abilities, which we all should do in these trying times. Ormund Hightower exerted himself, for it was the victory at Honeywine that ensured that the Reach was in a united front against Rhaenyra, the Rogue Prince, and the traitors. My own brother, Daeron the Daring, exerted himself and has kept himself busy, the results including him bringing thousands of much-needed reinforcements from the westerlands to reinforce our positions at Highgarden. Everyone is doing what they should be doing, which I sadly cannot say for you lot."

Aemond stopped in front of Lord Casper Swann, heir to Stonehelm and acting on his father's behalf. "Now, I won't blame you all for the mistakes made by Lord Caron, who thought that a simple charge into the seat of the Wendwaters, which was located on a hill covered with trees and easily defensible even with a hundred men. Not only that, he thought it wise to advance up on the kingsroad, which is a route that our enemies also know about and would have likely prepared ambush points along the way. The casualties that we sustained from the battle is all on Lord Caron," he emphasized, causing looks of displeasure to form on the surviving lords' faces at the Prince Regent slandering the Lord of Nightsong.

"Ah, so you are paying attention to my words," Aemond remarked darkly. "While the blame rests with Lord Caron, may the gods rest his soul, all of you are at fault equally. You should have told Lord Caron that advancing up on the kingsroad was a bad idea and you should have dissuaded him from following such a foolish plan. You should have also expected that the forests would have hidden the northmen and the Valemen's positions, which they exploited to attack you from the sides. You should have gotten into formation and not cause chaos amongst the ranks. If that had happened, the battle would have gone differently!"

But Aemond was not done reaming the lords out. "I have never seen a more vivid example of incompetence in our ranks. Not only have you allowed the enemy to advance, you have allowed them to see weakness! If any of you don't understand the consequences of doing so, allow me to illuminate you all on just who fights for Rhaenyra. Take Cregan Stark for example. He overthrew his own uncle and imprisoned his cousins when they threatened his claim on Winterfell. He was willing to go against his family to protect what was his, but the only reason why he would jump at that chance was because he saw weakness in his uncle. And I don't think I need to remind you all on what the Rogue Prince does whenever he sees vulnerability in his foes, which at this moment include us! We might have stopped them today, but they will fight tomorrow. If we lose, you will all suffer the consequences of being on the losing side. If we win, then the king himself shall reward you all. The only way to not lose is for us to deliberate our next course of action."

The lords continued to keep their mouths shut, but they were evidently not pleased at how Aemond was putting down their deeds in such a negative fashion.

"Well, speak! Any suggestions on how we can recover from today and secure victory in the days to come?" Aemond urged them.

Lord Casper Swann stepped forward. "You wish for us to talk, Your Grace? Fine. I'll begin by saying the things that must be said. And that is… I protest your denigrations of us."

Aemond blinked in anger. "What did you say?"

"Lord Caron, my father's closest friend, knew about war and how to conduct himself in combat, Your Grace. There were no other ways for him to advance towards the Wendwater's seat without taking the kingsroad. I'll admit that we had poor information on the enemy's positions, and we didn't expect to be surrounded on three sides. However, we all fought to the best of our abilities and any normal commander couldn't have within reason made us to persist in our attack without suffering heavier casualties and thus damaging your bannermen's abilities to wage war," Lord Casper defended the departed Lord Caron.

"You had the larger army and the better-equipped troops, Lord Casper. How can you reconcile those facts with what just happened today?" Aemond crossed his arms.

"You ever been in an ambush, Your Grace? It is chaotic and there is no telling if the man next to you or even your own person will be able to escape with their lives, because the enemy already has an advantage from surprise," Lord Casper continued. "But allow me to ask this, Your Grace. If you so cared about the result, then why did you burn your own troops along with the enemies with that dragon of yours?"

There were murmurs among the commanders, who also shared the same thoughts. "Would you rather have suffered a complete defeat or have some of your men sacrificed so that the battle would have been a draw?" Aemond asked.

"Your Grace, that kind of attitude is not beneficial to our struggle to end this war on a favorable term," Lord Casper responded.

"Be mindful of your tone, Lord Casper. I am the Prince Regent and you should continue to address me as your better," Aemond scolded him.

Casper Swann grounded his teeth before exhaling slowly but angrily through his nostrils. "Many of our men were burned into nothing because of your dragon, Your Grace. Yes, you might have prevented a total defeat. But you did as much as damage as the northmen and the Valemen would have done had the battle continued. You killed the enemy, Your Grace, but you also showed that you were willing to kill your own. I am sure that I speak for all the good men here when I ask you on your fitness to command us."

"Hear, hear!" a Wylde man concurred, followed by the other stormlander lords.

 _Such insolence!_ Aemong wanted nothing more than to unsheathe his sword and lob off Casper's head for such impudence, but he controlled himself since that would make the situation more complicated and more troublesome for him.

"Sacrifices must be made in war, Lord Casper," Aemond glowered at him. "Surely, you understand that, given your family's history in the Marches."

"And what would you know of sacrifice, Your Grace? You never been in battle before this war started and you only had a steward to train you on the ways of the blade," Lord Casper derided him. "Sometimes, I wonder if you are the right man to lead us while we struggle for your _older_ brother's rightful claim to the Iron Throne."

Aemond tightened his fists, close to losing his temper at how impertinent the heir to Stonehelm was acting. "Lord Cole is not a steward. He is the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the Hand of the King. You will treat him with the respect that he deserves." By talking about Criston Cole's heritage as a steward for Blackhaven, Lord Swann was implying that Aemond had learned from a very bad source when it came to sword fighting and tactics, which was not true for the Prince Regent.

"He is an upstart who only has his positions because no one else would fill them," Casper just couldn't stop.

"Lord Swann, I believe that is quite enough," warned Borros Baratheon.

"We all know of the Rogue Prince's reputation, but at least he has his deeds to fall back on. What do you have, Your Grace?" Casper Swann's nose was almost close with Aemond's, which was one step too many for him. _He doesn't know how to stop talking and he doesn't know who he is addressing. Time to show him a lesson._

Aemond threw a cross at Casper Swann's left cheek, sending him hurling onto the stone floor. He then kicked him hard in the belly, causing him to cough violently. Finally, he drew his sword from his scabbard and looked as if he would swing downward on his neck.

"Your Grace!" Borros tried to stop him. However, to the relief of everyone present, Aemond's blade landed just in front of the Stonehelm heir's nose, but a few inches closer would have meant his nose being severed.

"Speak to me like that again, and I will have you killed for insubordination. Understood?!" Aemond shouted, which Casper responded with by nodding and standing up while rubbing his belly. "Anyone else have anything to say on how we can win this war?" he looked around.

"Since you have so much to offer us in terms of an opinion given how you pointed out our faults, Your Grace," Lord Morrigen of Crow's Nest. "Do you have any recommendations on how we can proceed forward?"

"Thank you for asking that, Lord Morrigen. Finally, a man who asked the right question," Aemond exclaimed. "My recommendation would be to regroup all of your men and await word from our allies in the Reach. We have forces at Highgarden ready to march up the rose road to strike at King's Landing. Once they have begun the march, all of you will attack in the kingswood again, resulting in a two-pronged attack. The northmen and Valemen might be impressive regarding their battle abilities, but they can't hope to match our numbers and the dragons on our side. That will be our chance and that will be the way we will retake the capital and destroy the main forces sworn to Rhaenyra."

"What about assaulting the city from the Blackwater Bay, Your Grace?" Lord Estermont asked. "Surely, with the Redwynes with us, we can contemplate such an action."

"Not as long as the Sea Snake is still on the high seas can we launch a sea assault," Aemond stated. "Numbers are irrelevant, especially with him and the dragons that have sided with Rhaenyra. But once the Redwynes have sailed their fleet and have united with the Triarchy's, then we'll consider it. As of now, I have sent a commissioner to the Triarchy so that we might take possession of the usurper's son, little Viserys. If we have him, it'll offset the advantages that the enemy currently have with our queen and princess in their captivity."

The lords and commanders nodded, seeing the sense behind such actions, but were still upset about Aemond burning them with Vhagar.

"If that is all of the business that we will discuss, then I adjourn this meeting," Borros Baratheon called out before dismissing his bannermen. Once they've left, it was just him and Aemond in the hall.

"Although I will never dissent with you in public, Your Grace, in this case, Casper Swann has a point. These are my bannermen, sworn to me and to Storm's End, and I don't appreciate you using them so recklessly," Borros started.

"And you say that, given how many times you have clashed with the Dornishmen?" Aemond was surprised.

"We are not talking about experience, because this has nothing to do with that. You are not showing them a good example of leadership and it is these kinds of moments that might make men think twice about fighting with us," Borros explained.

Aemond scoffed. "Is this the Borros Baratheon that I had met when me and my bastard nephew Lucerys tried to win you over? I thought that you'd be more combative than this."

"I might be inclined to use the sword than my father Boremund was, but even I know how to take care of your men. If you don't treat them well, they will abandon you," Borros cautioned.

"Then they can burn also," Aemond dismissed. "Less cowardly and incompetent lords to deal with."

"There is a difference between incompetence done intentionally and actions done naturally."

Aemond blinked, confused. "What?"

"I knew Lord Caron. He was my goodbrother and he was merely trying to do his duties. He would never purposely put his troops at risk. Also, we're dealing with northmen, who don't exactly play by the rules," the Lord of Storm's End pointed out.

"And why should that be of any concern? Northern barbarians are inconsequential, even though I did say a few words on Cregan Stark," Aemond shrugged. "But regarding their forces, they must be reconstituted and ready to march soon. They can make up for their mistakes by winning the next time."

Borros sighed, not seeing any chance to persuade the Prince Regent otherwise on the conduct of his bannermen at the Wendwater. "Your Grace, about your betrothal to my daughter—"

"Yes, yes," Aemond knew what he was going to say. "I plan on honoring that agreement, but only after this war is done."

"I was hoping that you can conduct the ceremony as soon as possible. Floris needs a husband soon and there is no one better to suit her than a prince of House Targaryen," Borros urged.

Aemond sighed. Floris Baratheon was the youngest of the Four Storms, named because they constantly bickered with one another and only stopped because of their lord father. Floris was considered to be the prettiest of the Four Storms, and people said that she was a sweet girl, if somewhat frivolous. He did have to admit that on the beauty of the youngest of the Baratheon sisters, but did not expect for the Lord of Storm's End to bring it up while they were engaged in a war.

"You really that this is a good time for us to discuss wedding arrangements? I still have responsibilities as the Prince Regent," Aemond reminded him.

"One of the reasons why I decided to declare for your brother, Your Grace, was the fact that my house could once again have the honor of a royal marriage, just like with Prince Aemon and Jocelyn Baratheon before the former sadly departed before inheriting the throne. And alas, Jocelyn gave birth to a girl, which would have changed many things, particularly for my house," Borros outlined. "Even you should understand the importance of one's word and I don't know if we will like the outcome should you decide otherwise."

Aemond gritted his teeth. _He dares to blackmail me, the one who can ride the dragon of Visenya Targaryen?_

One of the minor reasons why he was in no hurry to join the Baratheons was because of what Maris said to him when Lucerys flew off. "He must've taken your balls the night he had taken your eye, since you let my father control your behavior despite your hatred of Lucerys," he remembered Maris' words very clearly.

Aemond should've known that Maris was insulting him because she herself felt offended for him choosing Floris instead of her, as people say she was the cleverest of the sisters. _Quite a tongue on her._

And given how Maris essentially persuaded him to kill Lucerys, no matter how much pleasure he might have gained from his death, Aemond didn't want to be around a person who knew how to use his anger to her uses. _If I stay around her, she'll probably have me burn her common contenders with Vhagar and do more of her dirty work._

However, he also couldn't afford to displease Borros Baratheon, as they needed the stormlanders to fight in the war. Plus, a royal betrothal gave the stags a stake in the greens' cause, so they either had to win to get what they wanted or lose and thus surrender everything.

"When do you think the ceremony should take place?" Aemond wasn't conceding to Borros' request, only seeing how much he wanted it.

"As I said, Your Grace, Floris needs a husband as soon as possible. Preferably within a few weeks' time so that there will no more waiting."

_So, he wants it very badly. This could be good._

"I'll keep it in mind," Aemond offered. "But… have Floris ready when the time arrives. I shall look forward to our time together when we're man and wife and this war is over, with my brother as the undisputed king and the traitors punished."

"That's all I ask, Your Grace," Borros said.

"All right, then," Aemond began to leave the hall. "Have Floris come here to this castle and I shall have some words with her. I only had a day to know her and that's not enough to understand the woman I will spend my life with."

"Consider it done," Borros affirmed as Aemond exited.

As for Aemond, he stepped onto the ramparts of Bronzegate and leaned on the edges, looking at the smoke from the fires that still burned from Vhagar's flames and the landscape that was slowly being stained with the blood of those whose lives ended so prematurely.

 _Oh, Rhaenyra, if you really consider yourself a good queen, then you would surrender and cease all suffering. What makes you so different from us?_ Aemond thought to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The battle was based on the Monongahela, the famed defeat of Edward Braddock in the French and Indian War. And then we have the friendly fire incident with Vhagar, hence "green on green" (from blue on blue).
> 
> Aemond is really not doing himself any favors due to his behavior. But even he cannot just antagonize Borros Baratheon, who I believe was a two-faced traitor who played both sides in order to advance his house by any means necessary and allowed Lucerys to die. And Aemond marrying Floris (which I thought was the most likely of the Four Storms) can lead to more problems than good, but only time will tell. 
> 
> Till next time!


	11. Conflict in the Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys. I apologize for the delay in updating. Went through some personal stuff and my job made me work extra hours due to Black Friday two weeks ago (for my non-American readers, it's the same as Boxing Day as that's when all of the companies conduct their heaviest shopping in the name of consumerism). 
> 
> But I shall continue to update.

Rhaenyra sat at the head of the small council along with the rest of the members who declared for her cause. Before them was Lord Roderick Dustin, his armor covered in ash and soot and his long hair and beard dirtied from the grime of battle. But the battle that he had returned from was not any ordinary one, for it was the first time that that the northmen and Valemen faced a dragon in combat in the one hundred and thirty years that have passed since Aegon the Conqueror created the Iron Throne. Indeed, the only reason why the men of the North and of the Vale never experienced dragonfire was because Torrhen Stark and Sharra Arryn saw sense and the battle on the Wendwater only happened because Aemond and Aegon refused to yield the throne to her.

"The men of the stormlands put up a good fight, at least those who were under the direct command of Lord Caron," Lord Dustin began his report on the battle. "But we were able to put enough pressure on their vanguard and used the forest to our advantage. From there, it was only a matter of keeping their middle guard occupied with the men of House Reed and those of my house. While the men of Houses Karstark, Royce, Bolton, and Redfort were able to collapse the enemy's vanguard and reach their middle guard, a crannogmen was able to wound Lord Caron. Without their command to issue orders, they had to withdraw. The enemy was exposed once they reached the Wendwater and the river offered us a rare opportunity to inflict a crippling blow to the enemy in Storm's End, with myself being involved in the final blow. We would have been able to, had Aemond and his dragon not showed up."

Rhaenyra, Daemon, Cregan, the Manderly brothers, Bartimos, Corlys, Gerardys, and Lorent Marbrand all listened with astonishment. While it wasn't surprising for Vhagar to have been able to inflict such damage, it didn't make the account any less alarming.

"But you said that Aemond also burned his own troops while riding Vhagar?" asked Mysaria.

"Yes, my lady," Lord Dustin confirmed.

"Interesting," the former Lysene dancer rubbed her chin in thought. "Then again, not very surprising given the violent inclinations evident in his youth."

"Quite," Daemon sighed before turning to Lord Dustin. "How many men have we lost at the Wendwater?"

"We struck the enemy with seven thousand men, Your Grace. Out of us, only about five thousand returned," Dustin admitted.

"Over two thousand lost," Daemon thought aloud. "What about the losses incurred by those sworn to Borros Baratheon?"

"I couldn't get an accurate count on their losses since I had to get the troops out of that place before Vhagar made another pass. But… if I had to assume, possibly four thousand men and that's not including the ones that were turned to ash," Lord Dustin responded.

Mysaria wrote his words on a piece of parchment, which was expected of someone of her responsibilities.

"So, the Baratheons have lost a substantial part of their forces. I don't imagine Aemond having an easy time keeping his troops under control after his actions," Cregan observed.

"Agreed," Corlys nodded. "At the same time, we should be cautious on committing any forces so freely even with the loss of so many bannermen of Storm's End. I don't expect my wife's extended family to let this setback hold them back for long."

Rhaenyra sighed. "Please remind me. Am I correct in knowing that Aemond is currently betrothed to Floris Baratheon?"

"You would be, Your Grace," Mysaria verified. "Borros Baratheon probably wants a repeat of the situation between Prince Aemon and Lady Jocelyn Baratheon, where Baratheon blood can once again be near the throne."

Daemon shook his head, resenting the Lord of Storm's End's actions but not finding it in his heart to fully condemn the stag lord. He was married to someone who had Baratheon blood and had two daughters who were also related to the stags.

 _He also sees himself in Borros,_ Rhaenyra noted. She wasn't going to deny that her marriage to Daemon didn't start on the right foot, but he became better and less fixated on the throne as their marriage progressed through the years. In addition, she had Laena to thank, as she helped Daemon go on a better path, a path where he became to see life beyond himself. _How else did he become a good father if he didn't understand that?_

"Lord Cregan," she turned to the Lord of Winterfell. "How soon can we get another northmen force into battle?"

"We still have over twenty thousand men ready to march, but I recommend not rushing back into fray. Now that we have a better understanding of what Aemond is capable of, which includes his willingness to burn his own men, we have to adjust our strategy. We can't just attack directly to the enemy, as Rook's Rest, the Honeywine, and now Wendwater all should teach us that we're not only ones with dragons. If our resources are used improperly, we will suffer irreversible losses."

"I concur with Lord Cregan," Ser Willam Royce joined in. He, alongside Corwyn and Leowyn Corbray, were given positions as advisors on the small council since they represented the Vale in the war. "I suggest we begin applying pressure on the Reach. It is a fact that Aemond ignored House Tyrell's neutrality and forced them to cooperate, which will not sit well with the houses north of Highgarden. The lands on each side of the rose road from here to the Tyrell's seat are fair game for both sides, so we have to exploit the Tyrell's being coerced by the usurpers."

"Ser Willam's plan might have some merit," Mysaria set down her quill. "I've conversed with some of the traders that have business on each side of the lines. There is word that Aemond is forcing houses that have declared neutrality to change sides for his brother and that threatening destruction if they don't. They've already made enemies out of the Caswells and the Merryweathers for killing their lords and Tumbleton might follow suit."

"That would also benefit our food stores if we moved on the northern Reach," Bartimos Celtigar added. "We deny Aemond half of the breadbasket and thus utilize the wealth and food those houses have to feed our armies. Given that the royal treasury was removed from the vaults, we need to fill our coffers soon."

The small council murmured in agreement. One thing that Rhaenyra had to give the usurpers credit for was denying her usage of the coffers so assiduously filled by Jaehaerys the Conciliator and her own father. _That much coin might have made things much easier_.

"Do you think that those houses would so willingly give their food stores and coin to us?" Torrhen Manderly asked.

"If we save them from being burned by Vhagar or at least offer them strong protection, they'll be grateful and they'll do anything for us," Bartimos supposed.

"Lord Bartimos says the truth," Corlys accepted. "Meanwhile, we have threats from the Triarchy to deal with. As long as they have a fleet to command, they can move on the Blackwater Bay and threaten King's Landing. My own grandson died because of those bastards."

Rhaenyra softly exhaled, not wanting to be reminded of her son's death. "Corlys speaks true. Any suggestions on how we could deal with the Triarchy?"

"Your Grace, as long as they have Prince Viserys, any action against them must be taken with great care," Torrhen explained. "We don't even know where he is, but I believe I speak for everyone that it is within the best interests of all of us that he be returned home as soon as possible, before the enemy fully use him as a bargaining chip."

The small council shook their head in agreement, but with Corlys only doing so lightly. _That's the second time that he did that when we mentioned Viserys. What's going on there?_ Rhaenyra thought with concern.

"I have connections back in Lys. Allow me to use them to find out where he is. After that, we can discuss our next course of action," Mysaria offered.

Rhaenyra looked to Daemon, who nodded. "You have my leave, Lady Mysaria, but be quick about it. I dread every day that my son is a prisoner in their hands."

Mysaria nodded. "And Your Grace, I must tell you that I've heard some disturbing rumors about what is going in this city."

That caught the small council's attention. "What rumors, my lady?" Willam Royce groaned. "Don't tell me that it relates to one of Prince Daemon's alternative titles."

Daemon might have learned to ignore when others shot at his unrestrained youth, but Rhaenyra cleared her throat. "Ser Willam, maintain decorum in this chamber, especially when you speak of my husband. Don't talk like that again in my presence, or do you really want to be reminded of what the Rogue Prince was capable of?" Willam gulped before nodding while she turned to Mysaria. "Continue."

"To answer your question, Ser Willam, it doesn't refer to Flea Bottom. In fact, there are growing apprehensions among the more well-off members of this city regarding the war's progress. The traders and craftsmen are eager to see the war concluded soon, as continued hostilities will adversely affect their businesses," Mysaria responded.

"Of course," Bartimos shrugged. "War might be good for business in the short-term, but it is peace that allows all to prosper for long years."

"Quite," Mysaria stated before continuing. "Apprehension can cause people to act in ways contrary to logic, which also applies to the specialized ranks of this city. I was able to get in contact with much of the whorehouses here thanks to His Grace's connections, and their clients have said that they've been frequenting secret meetings held by a man they call The Shepherd."

The small council blinked collectively. "Just 'The Shepherd?' He doesn't have a name?" Lord Corwyn inquired.

"What I know about this man so far is that he considers himself a preacher of the Seven," Mysaria started. "Some of the clients in the whorehouses that I've talked with have described him as a man who wears a hair shirt and rough spun breeches, along with a begging bowl hung around his neck. They say that he's a zealot, openly criticizing those who don't follow his views on how faithful people should act and even going so far as to eat only bread and water because he says that all food in the world is 'sinful.'"

While Daemon, the Manderly brothers, Cregan, Corlys, and Bartimos scoffed, the others kept listening with a sense of solemnness, their following of the Faith allowing them to feel a little bit of sympathy for this Shepherd. "Continue," Rhaenyra urged.

"The shepherd is saying in all of his meetings that the only reason that this war started was because the dragons couldn't share power and that there are still dragons in this capital. I also heard that the shepherd is warning those who would listen to him that the Doom of Valyria is upon them, as the dragons fighting each other can only set the stage for something worse, and that death is the ultimate consequence of their presence," Mysaria revealed.

Rhaenyra bit down on her teeth, angered at the ridiculousness of those statements. "And?"

"There is also talk that the Shepherd has sympathies across the specialized parts of the city and that Flea Bottom is next."

"Why don't we just find this Shepherd and arrest him?" Lorent Marbrand entered the discussion. "He's fomenting unrest in this city and we have to respond accordingly."

"If what Lady Mysaria said is true, then we have to approach this carefully," Cregan answered. "Things are already tense in the capital with the war going on, and given how many faithful are in this city, arresting a man who many see as a preacher can send the wrong message."

Rhaenyra remained impressed at Lord Cregan's astuteness, especially since he didn't follow the Faith.

"I agree with Lord Cregan," Daemon assented. "Maintaining order in this city was as hard during peacetime as it was during war, as I had learned from my post as Commander of the City Watch."

"Not only that, he doesn't stay in one place for long," Mysaria added. "I suggest that we start searching for the Shepherd, but discreetly. Meanwhile, we contact those in the specialized trades and make them work for us as they pass on information about these meetings."

"That sounds acceptable," Daemon bobbed her head.

"So, we have decided to advance on the northern Reach, have Lady Mysaria find out where Viserys is, and begin watching for this Shepherd," Rhaenyra summarized. "Start strategizing on how best to attack, but also contemplate ways to bring the Merryweathers and Caswells to commit their forces for us. I am also empowering the City Watch to cooperate with Lady Mysaria so that we can all remain vigilant to any signs of serious theats against us. Finally, when there is word on my son, let me know immediately. Understood?" The small council nodded. "This council is adjourned for the day."

While the council filed out, Rhaenrya and Daemon were left with Mysaria. "I trust your accommodations are well, my lady," she started.

"More than what I could have expected, Your Grace. After all, I am just a lowly dancer given responsibilities beyond my initial expectations," Mysaria said in self-deprecation.

"Nonsense. You've done well for us so far and you've proven your worth. It only confirms my belief that I had made a good decision in making you my mistress of whisperers," Rhaenyra answered.

"You honor me very much, Your Grace," Mysaria dipped her head. "I will report back to you soon on the matter of the Shepherd. And again, thank you for allowing me and my daughter to enter court."

"No Targaryen blood should be wasted," Rhaenyra managed. "We'll talk more on the matter."

"Your Graces," Mysaria bowed again before leaving.

Rhaenyra had met Daemon's daughter by this former Lysene dancer. Four and twenty, Shiera was just like her mother, as she possessed skin that was pale as milk and was lithe and lissome. Given the prominent Valyrian traits in Lysenes, that wasn't very surprising.

But what bothered Rhaenyra was seeing the woman who had captured Daemon's heart so many years ago. While Daemon had grown past that and she herself had to admit that his Rogue Prince persona was part of what attracted her to him in the first place, she didn't like the idea of him being with women other than her, which also included Laena even though they were friendly about it.

At the same time, seeing how Daemon was a good father and gave her children of her own, she was willing to accept some parts of his past for his sake, and that included the child he had sired with Mysaria, the one he gave the dragon egg to and angered her father in one of their many conflicts.

"I feel like seeing the children play now," Rhaenyra spoke. "I want to see how Shiera adds to the happiness that they should feel while we bear the burdens for them."

"I'm pretty sure that they are in the godswood right now," Daemon answered. "That's the only place where they can run around free while safe in the Red Keep."

Rhaenyra offered her arm, which he took. "Shall we see to them?"

As they exited the small council chamber and towards the godswood, many of the guards and other members of the household dipped their heads for their queen and prince consort. Entering the godswood, which was still absent of a heart tree, they soon enough found Baela, Rhaena, and Shiera holding hands as they danced around little Aegon, who sat on a rock, and Jaehaera, who was clapping her hands happily. Baela told Daemon that if they couldn't make her brother play with them, then they'll around them. "After a while, he might want to play with us after seeing how we do it."

Rhaenyra held no ill-will towards Jaehaera, as she had done nothing against her, and was still a child. But as it turned out, she was not as naïve as most would assume, since she witnessed some of her parents' ugly arguments as the older Aegon went out whoring, and even said that it was good that her father wasn't in the Red Keep. _Poor girl,_ she sympathized her.

"What are you thinking right now, Nyra?" Daemon asked.

"I just pity Jaehaera, since she already saw what unhappiness in marriage looks like," Rhaenyra admitted.

"Me too," Daemon sighed. "No child should have to experience that."

"And that's something that I will not let my children or grandchildren see," Rhaenyra declared.

"Grandchildren?" Daemon turned to her, surprised.

"Well, Aegon will have to marry, and so will Viserys when we get him back. The same thing for Baela and Rhaena, and then Visenya. But we will work to ensure that they have happy marriages, politics be damned."

"Careful," Daemon playfully warned. "You remind me of a certain someone long ago."

"Who?"

"Me."

Rhaenyra laughed. "Well, I am still unsure if I should call Shiera 'daughter.' We're only a few years apart and that could make things awkward between us."

"I would hardly say a nine-year difference is 'a few years,'" Daemon pointed out.

"But the point remains. More importantly, you had her with someone who spread her legs for you, and you took it without hesitation. I'm troubled that my dragon was smitten by someone else," Rhaenyra teased.

"Come now, Nyra. You're the only one for me, the only dragon that I can call my own," Daemon turned to her while putting his hands on her waist. "So, what can I do to make you sure again?"

Rhaenyra put her hands around his neck. "Give me another child, another girl. And I want her conceived tonight in our chambers. I'll be sure again afterwards."

Daemon chuckled. "Anything to assure you that you are the only one for me."

She reached up and pulled in her husband for her kiss, which quickly became deeper but was rudely by Baela and Rhaena finally noticing their parents. Shiera put her hands on Jaehaera's and Aegon's eyes to shield them.

"Ugh," Baela groaned. "Please go to your chambers, kepa. We don't want you making muña moan while we play."

Daemon and Rhaenyra chortled, with her snorting as she tried to control her laughter.

"Baela, we'll have a talk about respecting other's privacy," Daemon lightly warned before grabbing Rhaenyra's hand in his. "But after we're done tonight."

Baela rolled her eyes, Rhaena was sheepish, and Shiera was amused at her father retaining his virility.

"Actually, let's do it now," Daemon whispered in her ear. "Don't want to keep you uncertain for long."

"Show me, my prince," Rhaenyra commanded lustfully, eager to see his bare and muscled form as much as he wanted to see her without anything. "Please your queen. Make me scream louder than before."

* * *

Aegon's breathing hitched as he tried to shrug off the sting that still came from his burns. He demanded the milk of the poppy every time that it came back, since that was the only thing that was keeping the pain from becoming too unbearable. However, the flames from a dragon's mouth proved incredibly potent when it came into contact with skin, and the normal remedies that were used to treat burns simply were inadequate when the maesters tried to heal their king.

What was more distressing for Aegon was that the milk of the poppy seemed to no longer work on him, as the searing feeling that he felt from when Meleys released her fire on him had come back with full force and his body had adjusted to the large quantity of milk of the poppy that made up his daily intake.

His body became dripped in sweat and his groaning turned into sounds that weren't quite screams but were loud enough to be heard throughout the castle. The maesters had to cover his body in rags and dip him in a tub of cold water to lessen the pain, but nothing worked. However, the delirious effects of the milk of the poppy were still there, which made the coping more unbearable since his mind was making him remember certain memories without the numbing effects of the potion.

His days were mostly spent in bed, as the healing took longer than anyone had expected, and nobody wanted the lords to see their king so wounded. Most importantly, he had heard in passing of his brother acting on his behalf over most day-to-day affairs as his appointed Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm, which he didn't even remember doing. So many things were becoming mixed or lost in his mind under the fog of the poppy, leading him to become more unsure on what is reality and what wasn't.

Then, out of the blue and in between quick breaths, Aegon remembered the time when his displeasure towards his father reached feverish heights. It was a day that he tried to forget, as it brought back much pain and also made him more resentful of his half-sister.

_Aegon thrusted hard between the legs of the Bracken lady, whose name he had quickly forgotten but was content to focus on her pretty face and graceful form. His violet eyes met with her walnut ones, and she gave him the satisfaction he needed by moaning very loudly whenever he plunged his length into her entrance._

_It was during the celebrations of his twentieth name-day and his father had arranged for a large feast in his honor at the Red Keep. Everyone of House Targaryen or related to it were invited, but as expected, Rhaenyra, Daemon, their children, and the other houses closest to Dragonstone, most prominently the Velaryons and Celtigars, did not show up. Ever since that tourney sixteen years prior, where Alicent wore the green gown and Rhaenyra wore the black, the divisions between the competing claimants to the Iron Throne were very clear and the hostility between especially the Targaryen princes born from Alicent's womb and Rhaenyra's Velaryon sons were well-known throughout the realm._

_Everyone assumed that Harwin Strong was the true father given his close proximity, but whether it was true or not was irrelevant in Aegon's mind. As long as people believe that she is a whore with dragon's blood, nothing else matters, Aegon thought._

_But even though he wasn't inclined to respect Rhaenyra's position as the heir to the Iron Throne, he found himself quite exhausted from navigating through the various lordly houses that came to congratulate him, an activity that was to be expected of any prince of House Targaryen and potential claimant to the throne should the occasion arise. Indeed, Alicent and her "green" followers placed their hopes in Viserys making Aegon the Prince of Dragonstone once he saw the sense in empowering a woman, but that day never came to pass. However, it did little to dent their aspirations._

_Whenever his mother or his grandfather Ser Otto tried to draw his attention to important matters of the realm such as taxation policies and maintenance of the kingsroad, Aegon made clear his disinterest and went for the flagon of Arbor gold that his Hightower family always drank. He also had the cooks bring his meals to his chambers and lock the door, where he could avoid his mother, grandfather, and his brothers and enjoy his daily servings of boar, aurochs, apples, ale and wine, and sweets in private. He was a prince, so he was going to enjoy every privilege his status afforded him._

_He also didn't want to be near Helaena, who he judged as less pretty than the maids of the Red Keep and even her ladies-in-waiting. He knew that his mother and grandfather arranged for the marriage, since it would strengthen his claim against Rhaenyra's and ensure that Hightower blood would be close to the throne. Not wanting to anger his mother more than he already did, he saw his wife during the first few years of their marriage and closed his eyes as he took her to bed. Once I have an heir and a spare, I'll stop, he concluded._

_His thinking regarding his privileges then a step further, as he decided to ignore Helaena completely once Jaehaerys, Maelor, and Jaehaera were born. Since he fulfilled his duty, there was nothing to stop Aegon from pursuing women who he saw as prettier than his sister-wife. He did see other women in between his children's births, but Jaehaera's birth freed him, in Aegon's mind, from the obligations that came with being a prince._

_Besides maids, who couldn't say no to a prince wanting to take them in his bed, his eyes wondered towards his sister-wife's ladies-in-waiting, which interestingly included Bethany Bracken and Agnes Blackwood, women who came from riverlander houses known for their bloody history against each other. Unsurprisingly, the only reason that they did not openly fight was because they had to attend to Helaena most of every day and they usually retired late at night, but in separate directions._

_Bethany had wavy brown hair and big walnut eyes while Agnes had long but smooth black hair and soft grey eyes. Both were thin, supple, and had pleasant voices, while their dresses were very becoming of them (Bethany wore a yellow dress lined with red while Agnes wore a black one lined with red, both of them representing their houses' respective colors)._

_But with Agnes' dress reminding Aegon of the colors of Rhaenyra's, he decided that he was in the mood for something yellow, which matched the gold of his dragon Sunfyre._

_After the castle had retired for the night after his name-day celebrations and while feeling a little numb from drink, he wandered towards Bethany's chambers in the Holdfast and walked past her after she responded to his knocking. Her curtseying exposing the cleavage shown through her gown, Aegon walked behind and moved his hands into her garments as she stood still. Grabbing the sleeves from her shoulders and pushing them, he squeezed her breasts and pressed against her clit, making her moan. Pushing her onto the bed, he untied his breeches, adjusted his cock, and sheathed it in her. "Feel the pleasure of a prince, my lady. Be honored," was all he said as he took her maidenhead._

_He continued to meet Bethany Bracken in the closing hours of each day, sneaking out of bed next to Helaena so as to not wake her. Not that she cared ever since that incident with the maid, and after Aemond promised that he wouldn't clean up whatever messes he made. As if I need his help, Aegon dismissed._

_He found pleasure in the embrace of Lady Bracken, but he wasn't concerned if she even consented or not to his advances. If I am pleasured, nothing else matters, he thought._

_But one day, a moon after his twentieth name-day celebrations, he was summoned to his father's solar in the early hours of morning even though he was scheduled for another lesson with his mother and Hightower grandfather. Confused, he obeyed and presented himself to his father._

_"Father, I have come—"_

_"Shut it," Viserys gritted his teeth, shocking him. "Before you say anything, sit down and keep your mouth closed. I have much to say."_

_Alicent and Otto Hightower were also present, but their faces were pale in fear. What's going on here? Aegon thought dreadfully._

_Aegon looked at his father, who normally carried a smile on his face, a neatly trimmed mustache, and while not as muscled or as well-inclined to physical activities like himself, he knew to how please the people around him and they in turn liked to be in his presence. But instead of a smile and a relaxed face, he carried a frown that could turn uglier and his cheeks and forehead expressed a certain lividness that he never saw in his father before._

_"So, you think you are free after having heirs?" Viserys looked at him with the fiercest stare that he had ever seen. "You think just because you have an heir and a spare, you have leave to do whatever you want? Is that it?"_

_"Father, I don't know—"_

_"I said QUIET!" Viserys suddenly shouted, jolting Aegon so much that he quickly closed his mouth. "It's bad enough that you have decided to neglect your studies in favor of food and drink. It's bad enough that you are keeping to yourself so that you wouldn't have to talk with your family. But I never felt more ashamed when I hear that my son ignores his wife so that he can go whoring!"_

_Aegon's eyes widened in terror. "Father, I—"_

_Without warning, Viserys grabbed his wine goblet and threw it at his son, only narrowly missing him as Aegon ducked and missed the shattering glass pieces._

_"VISERYS!" Alicent stood up._

_"Be quiet, woman!" Viserys scolded her, his anger also shocking her since she sat back down. "Do you know the person that I have just conversed with before you came here? Her name is Bethany Bracken, and she is one of Helaena's ladies-in-waiting."_

_Aegon swallowed._

_"Your wife and sister also told me of the other times where you slept around with the maids in this very castle. I may have my own shortcomings, but I never decided to find pleasure in another woman because I know what happens when bastards are born, especially those with royal blood," Viserys was seething at this point._

_"Bastard?" Aegon whispered. "You mean she's—?_

_"Fortunately for me," Viserys cut him off. "Her father at Stone Hedge needs coin and I have just a raven promising him a payment in golden dragons if he takes back his daughter and keeps everyone quiet on who fathered the babe growing in her womb. Humfrey Bracken needs a spare, so he was more than willing to take the babe as his own."_

_Aegon stood up, not willing to let his source of ease leave him. "Father, you cannot—"_

_"That's where you're wrong. I am the King and I have the power to do what I must to ensure that our house is protected," Viserys corrected him. "I couldn't trust you to end things with Lady Bethany, so I have decided to discharge her from Helaena's service myself and send her home."_

_Aegon shook his head in denial, and that's when he decided to fire back at his father. "And what about you, father? A real man chooses someone worthy to become the heir, not the whore that is my cursed sister. And you accuse me of whoring, when my sister had bastards? I do what a man does and should, which is more than you ever will be. No wonder why many protested your right to be king!"_

_Alicent gasped and Otto's eyes became bigger, but the expressions from both were nothing compared to the reddening rage on his father's face._

_"Father— I didn't mean—" Aegon tried to take back his words, not realizing it until it left his lips._

_"A MAN?! If your idea of manhood is whoring around and doing what you want, then you are more of an idiot than I thought! And don't you ever call the Velaryon boys bastards!" Viserys' words were biting, which was more than what Aegon could swallow._

_"Father, please forgive me," Aegon weakly tried to apologize, but Viserys was having none of it._

_"And now you've strengthened my belief in that I had made the right decision years ago. Better Rhaenyra, a woman, on the throne than a whoremonger and a fool," Viserys was being merciless._

_Aegon was trembling, seeing his father's words as going too far. Alicent stepped in to defend her son. "Viserys, that's enough. Aegon already sees—"_

_"No, I don't think he does, nor will he ever," Viserys interrupted her. "If this was any other time, I would have you sent to the Night's Watch or exile you for what you've done. However, my grandchildren need their father and I won't deprive them of that. But understand that I will watch you now. Do this again and I shall remind you of what consequences befall to whoremongers. Do you understand?" Aegon remained silent, prompting Viserys to grind his teeth more. "Do. You. Understand?"_

_"Yes, father," Aegon managed._

_"Now, get out," Viserys pointed to the door, which Aegon walked towards eagerly._

_Aegon took a moment to lean on the wall outside of the solar and breathe in and out, as he sensed being close to breaking down at his father's words._

_Whoremonger. Fool. Idiot. The Night's Watch. Exile. Those words repeated in his mind, but the eyes full of fury and resignation were what made Aegon remembered the most. And he'll choose my whore of a sister over me? Hypocrite, Aegon cursed his father._

_But since he was not the type to reflect too much on one's disapproval, he found a solution to his current predicament. As he couldn't find comfort in Bethany Bracken anymore, he went for the next best choice in his mind._

_Agnes wears a dress with colors similar to Rhaenyra, so today, she'll be my sister and I shall rule over her, Aegon swore to himself._

_His feet moved him towards Agnes Blackwood's chamber, which was on the far side of the Holdfast. He didn't care that it was early morning and that people might see him. After what his father did, he needed to distract his mind with pleasure._

_Knocking on Agnes' door, he pushed through the door and found himself looking into the grey eyes of the Blackwood lady. Perfect, she has her black and red dress on, Aegon observed._

_"Your Grace," she curtseyed and thus exposing her cleavage to Aegon's lustful eyes._

_"Take off your dress," Aegon ordered her._

_"Your Grace?"_

_"Take it off, now," Aegon stepped forward._

_"I can't, Your Grace. I have duties to Princess Helaena today," she tried to ward him off, which didn't work._

_"She can wait. I'm a prince, so you'll do as you're commanded," Aegon threatened._

_Agnes cocked her head at him. "Will you take me, just as you took Lady Bethany, Your Grace?"_

_Aegon blinked, shocked that Agnes dared talk back to him. "What did you say, you fucking bitch?"_

_"Before you make a decision you'll regret, Your Grace, please allow me to leave in peace," Agnes pleaded._

_"Regret…" Aegon repeated maliciously before he felt a flash of anger and slapped her face, causing her to fall on the floor. "Regret?! The only one that should feel regret should be you, as you are disobeying a prince!" He grabbed Agnes' arms, picked her up from the floor while he ignored her bleeding lips, and threw on the bed. For good measure, he punched her belly hard, causing her to cough._

_"You know what? I'll just do it myself!" Aegon went for her skirt and ripped it open, causing Agnes to flail her legs. He pushed them aside as his fingers grabbed at and tore off her smallclothes. Pinning her hands above her head, he kissed her, which she responded to by biting his lip. He slapped her again for that. "Oh, looks like we'll have to be rough," he grinned cruelly. "But don't worry. It'll be over soon."_

_He ignored her pleas and screams of pain as he tore off the rest of her dress, imagined Agnes as Rhaenyra, and sucked on her breasts before forcing himself inside of her. Her sobs and anguished moans fell on deaf ears, as Aegon took what he wanted and reminded himself what a man would do. What a dragon would do, he finally thought._

"Mother," Aegon reached for the ceiling as a baby would in the crib. "Hold me. Hold me."

Hearing her son's call, Alicent rushed in his chambers, having waited outside of the door at the maester's behest in case something went wrong.

While Aegon was reliving that time, Alicent was wiping the sweat from his brow. Ignoring the maester's warnings on increasing his intake of the milk of the poppy, she yelled to them, "Would you rather see your king in pain?! Do it!" To her relief, he had drifted into a deep slumber and was no longer inhaling rapidly.

It tore at Alicent's heart to see her son in such pain, but remembering Aemond's example, she accepted it as a necessary consequence for the rightful king to sit on the Iron Throne. _If we lose, then we shall have the Rogue Prince rule over us and we'll be done for._

After making sure her son was calm, she left him to rest, nodded to the kingsguard guarding his chambers, and went to the solar of Brightwater Keep, home of House Florent but used as an alternative location to house Aegon as he healed, since Highgarden was deemed too close to the front lines and to danger.

Her father Otto was already there, leaving Daeron and Lord Cole in charge at Highgarden, as they expected to return briefly after they checked on Aegon's health.

It was those he that she found in the solar of Lord Florent, who allowed them to use it while stayed.

"How is the king?" Otto asked his daughter.

"Barely managing, as he is," Alicent sat down. "I had to increase his intake of the milk of the poppy just so he can get some sleep."

"A rested man will heal quicker, Alicent," her father answered. "And the King healing will benefit all those fighting for him, including us."

"Of course," Alicent nodded. "Sunfyre, however, is proving very slow to heal. We need both the king and his dragon back in the fray if we are to have a chance in the long-term."

Otto sighed. Like her son, the golden dragon Sunfyre was still recovering from the cuts and burns suffered from Meleys. She could only see the dragon from a distance, as she didn't have the blood of the dragon. _But I bore those who did. Doesn't that count?_

She saw Sunfyre earlier today, where he burned and consumed a herd of cattle, much to the protest of the farmer. She had to compensate him for the loss of his livestock, but she couldn't hope to do it forever. _Sunfyre's eating like there's no tomorrow, but he still can't fly? Never thought dragons could be so useless, connection with the riders be damned._

"And no offense to my grandson, but he's not doing us any favors as Prince Regent, the Wendwater being evidence of that," Otto admitted.

Alicent heard about what Aemond did. _Burning your own troops sends the wrong message. Why doesn't he know that?_ "But Aemond is exerting himself, just like all of us should."

"But there is a difference between hard effort and effort used right," Otto pointed out. "And so far, we've only been doing much of the former."

"Then, what do you suggest, father?"

"I had suggested reaching out to Qoren Martell and letting the Triarchy do more of the fighting for us in the use of ships and sellswords," Otto reminded her. "Perhaps, we get the Dornish to contribute troops provided that we meet certain conditions and that we pay the Triarchy for soldiers, since we need more to shore up our gaps."

Alicent shook her head vehemently. "The realm will never accept any overtures to the Dornish and we already have enough problems with the Triarchy as it is, since they're not being cooperative regarding Princes Viserys."

"Allow me to talk to them. They'll listen to me," Otto offered.

"I can appreciate you being careful about the whole situation, father, and I appreciate your wisdom. But using Dornishmen and relying on the Triarchy will discredit us, since that will show that our side doesn't have the resources within Westeros to continue the fighting and you should know how the lords and smallfolk will be hostile to outside help," Alicent outlined.

"You bring up a good point, Alicent. But we can't afford to be selective with who we ally with," Otto responded. "I'm very sure that is what Rhaenyra is doing, as she brought in northern barbarians to her cause."

"Don't compare me with that whore," Alicent hissed. "I was queen before the thought ever crossed her mind, and my sons lived properly as princes of House Targaryen. If we just struggle a little harder, we'll succeed."

"As I said, there is a difference between hard effort and effort used right," Otto repeated. "And I warned my grandsons that appointing a steward in my place was a good idea."

"And did you know that it was Lord Cole's idea to set that trap for Rhaenys? While it was a good strategy, I doubted Aegon's ability to take her on all by himself, not while Vhagar was still recovering as that bastard Lucerys did more damage to Aemond's dragon than anyone thought possible. If only Cole wasn't so eager to fight and face Rhaenyra, then Aegon will still be ruling and we have one more dragon flying for us," Alicent scoffed at where Criston Cole's belligerence had got them.

"War is too important to be handled by men who only know how to handle a sword, and Cole is an example of why knights who come from undistinguished lines must never hold the reins of power," Otto declared. "Men like Cole should know their place, as should the Sea Snake and others who don't respect our traditions and come from bloodlines that never existed centuries prior."

"Oh, he will be dealt with soon," Alicent revealed. "Cole's aggressive ideas have not improved the situation for us. and I am confident that my sons will see the error in their decision to appoint that upstart. However, we don't have the luxury of time and I have formed a plan to be rid of him quickly."

"How?" Otto became interested.

"Let's just say, his cockiness will soon be his downfall," Alicent answered cryptically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, we have our first proper introduction to Mysaria, who is proving to be a great asset. But we also have mention of the Shepherd, which can only indicate one event to come in the Dance. And Daemon and Rhaenyra... :) 
> 
> For Aegon's flashback, it's only fitting that he gets chewed out by Viserys (actually, that's putting it kindly). And just to be clear with you all, I condemn anything related to what Aegon did to Lady Blackwood and rapists deserve to be punished horribly. To get a visual idea, watch what happens to the villain in Wind River film. 
> 
> As for Alicent and Otto, they're scheming against Criston Cole, meaning that Aemond is not the only one who will cause damage to the green cause. 
> 
> Until next time.


	12. Doubts in the Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! How have you been? Still been busy, but things have become a little easier to handle.
> 
> Anyways, let's get right into it.

Helaena cut her serving of beef steak into thinner slices before putting them in her mouth. Swirling her goblet of Dornish red in her hands, she took a sip, enjoying the mixing of tastes and feeling that came when good wine and well-cooked meat came together. She then ripped apart a piece from her loaf of bread, freshly baked from the ovens, and savored the softness of it. The bread helped absorb whatever moistures were left from her intake of Dornish red and any remainders from her steak.

Although Rhaenyra eventually removed the guards from outside her quarters and allowed her to have one lady attend to her, Lady Rosey Rosby, daughter of the Lord Rosby who was executed for remaining loyal to Rhaenyra, Helaena still chose to take her meals in her quarters. _I don't want to see Rhaenyra or Daemon as I eat, because they have yet to earn my trust. And if she thinks that good food will make me come to her side, she better think again._

It had been several weeks since she remained in Maegor's Holdfast, although it was now in the hans of the supports of Rhaenyra instead of her full-blooded brothers. Even though the pain of Jaehaerys' death was still present in her, she could take comfort in the fact that her daughter Jaehaera was alive and well and that Maelor was somewhere safe with his grandmother or his uncles. If she had to choose who would be his guardian, it would be Daeron. _Aemond is cruel and Aegon is a pig. But Daeron has always been good to me._

She chose not to think too much on how the war was going on, as that brought back memories to when she had to deal with the affairs of the Seven Kingdoms while her brother-husband spent half of the time whoring with the many maids and women in court and all over King's Landing. She didn't think much on it at first, since her mother Alicent told her that it was a man's world and that such things were natural if a marriage had a chance to last for many years. _How does a marriage last long if a husband can play with another woman while I have to be devoted to him when he does?_

But the line was crossed when Helaena came from praying in the sept, where she walked back to her chambers and heard moaning and sheets rustling behind the door. Walking through the door, she found Aegon humping one of the servant girls in the Red Keep, a woman who worked in the kitchens if she remembered correctly.

_"Get out," Helaena was not letting the girl apologize, as she wanted her out of her sight before she got angrier. She scurried out of the room while Helaena felt a strange fire emerge from her insides as she stared at Aegon's nude and plump form. What made it worse was that he didn't even try to cover his cock, showing how little he really cared about what happened next. He was everything that their father wasn't, in that their father was jolly and full of love for everyone. But Aegon was not only vindictive, but he was insecure. Worse, he tried to make up for his inadequacies with sleeping with as many women as possible to prove his manhood._

_"You do this? In my chambers?" Helaena was incensed when she saw Aegon humiliate her for the first time, but this was one step too far in her mind._

_"She was here to give you your serving of dates and lemon cakes," Aegon pointed to the table, which had two empty plates save for the crumbs on them. "I just thought we could pass the time while you were praying in the sept."_

_"So, you fooled around in my chambers and then you ate my food?" Helaena was exhaling loudly, trying to control her rage._

_"Come now. You need to lose some weight. You might still have a good figure, but your belly is not as flat and thin as it was once after Maelor was born," Aegon brushed aside her words while having the gall to comment on her body._

_"The same could be said of you, Aegon, considering that you hide in your quarters to eat alone and try to avoid your studies with cakes and wine," Helaena shot back._

_Aegon stood up from the bed and put on his robes as he walked menacingly towards his sister-wife. "What did you say?"_

_"You hardly look like a proper prince yourself." I'm not going to take this anymore, she thought. "You don't train in the yard as Aemond and Daeron do and you don't ride Sunfyre as much as before. You are fat, Aegon."_

_"And who the fuck are you to tell me what I am and am not? I have known you since we were children, so don't think that your anger isn't something that I have seen before."_

_"Oh, and is that supposed to make me worried?" Helaena scoffed. "I've known you since you were a boy, Aegon, and I knew you when you were crying and pissing in the bed when our mother couldn't cuddle you like you always wanted."_

_"Be careful what you say to me, Helaena. I am your husband and you will show me respect."_

_"Why should I? You might have given me three children, but they don't know that their father is a whoremonger and an overeater."_

_"And they don't know that their mother doesn't have the beauty that we dragons are known for."_

_"Beauty? According to you?" She wasn't going to deny that Rhaenyra and other women of House Targaryen were more beautiful than her, but her brother-husband never did possess the best judgement in looks, which complemented his inability to control where his dick pointed very well. "I guess I should give my regards to Lady Agnes then," she said sarcastically._

_"What was that?" Aegon became more pissed._

_"I had seen to her and I saw the rips in her gowns. The only reason why I didn't tell father was because I didn't want my children to know that their father forced himself on another woman, which would damage their minds forever. That's what a mother would do, but you don't even know how to be a fucking father!"_

_With that, Aegon backhanded her face, making her collide to the wall and fall down while her forehead bled._

_"You bitch! You don't know what the fuck you are on about. And in case you don't know, the way she sounded… she begged for it!" Aegon sneered._

_Helaena was surprisingly calm, considering her forehead was bleeding. "I thank the gods that I bore two sons and a daughter. I will love them forever, but I can also take comfort in the fact that I did my duty and never have to feel your cock in me again."_

_"You fucking…" Aegon threatened to step towards her and hit her again before stopping. "You know what? I agree. I never liked your cunt anyway."_

_"Makes two of us them," Helaena bit back._

_"Perhaps, I will see another of your ladies tonight," Aegon flashed a sick grin before walking out of the chambers, leaving Helaena in shock at how much of a raping monster her brother-husband really was._

Helaena willed herself from thinking such a horrible memory. But her disgust soon turned to sorrow, wrapping her arms around herself in comfort. Seeing Daemon and Nyra together, much as she resented them, Helaena couldn't deny their love for one another. _Why am I condemned to never know the loving touch of a good man?_ She sighed. As a mother and a Queen, or a former Queen, she had not time for such recriminations.

Wiping her mouth with her handkerchief and calling a servant over to collect her plate and empty goblet, she exited her chambers, followed by Lady Rosby, who she judged as amicable despite what her brother-husband and Aemond had done to her father.

Walking into the hallways, she walked up one of the guards that stood at attention. From the merman sigil on his surcoat, he originated from House Manderly, pointing to how the original household guards that supplemented the kingsguard had been purged and replaced by men from houses that had declared for Rhaenyra.

"You," Helaena moved up to the guard. "Do you happen to know where my daughter is? The Princess Jaehaera?" It had been too long since she felt her in his arms and as a mother, she needed her child close to her.

"She's currently with the Princesses Baela and Rhaena, the Prince Aegon, and the Lady Shiera," the guard answered.

Helaena knew who Baela and Rhaena were. _The Rogue Prince's brats._ And she was still uncomfortable at Rhaenyra giving her firstborn son the same name as her brother-husband. But Shiera was a mystery to her. _Who is she?_

"Where are they?"

"They are in the gardens at this moment, Your Grace."

"Thank you," and Helaena and Lady Rosby set off towards the gardens.

Like the godswood, the gardens of the Red Keep were among the few places where one could find some tranquility in the midst of the all of the plotting that took place just nearby in the throne room. Helaena herself found comfort in the gardens, as it was one of the few places where she could move about freely and get respite from her brother's "affections."

Life continued on even as a war raged, since the gardens still had a few highborn walking around. And the men dipped their heads while the women curtseyed to her, but not as enthusiastically as before. _Aegon is not here and I am but a captive._

Soon enough, Helaena found Jaehaera sitting on a stone bench with Baela, Rhaena, little Aegon, and a Valyrian woman who looked much older than the rest. _Another of Daemon's likely bastards?_

But to her surprise, Jaehaera sat very closely with little Aegon and they seemed to hold each other's arms. Rhaena and the Valyrian woman where holding two ends of a book, with Baela next to the youngsters, and they were all immersed in whatever they were reading.

Rhaena and Baela did indeed inherit Laena Velaryon's beauty, as seen from slim forms and hair and eyes that really fit them. Little Aegon seemed to be the perfect balance between Daemon and Rhaenyra, as he had his chin and forehead but had her cheeks and eye shape. _Maybe in a few years, all the maids in the realm will come to crawl their fingers in him._

As if sensing her, Jaehaera looked up from the book and jumped down from the bench to run towards Helaena. "Muña!"

She bent her knees, opened her arms, and embraced her daughter tightly. Kissing her forehead and running her hands along her back, she almost cried at feeling her child ever since Aegon and whatever remained of his council left them there. _They did leave us here, only caring about Maelor._

Not that she cared much about Aegon at this point. All that mattered was her daughter.

"How have you been, muña? They said that you needed to rest," Jaehaera looked into her eyes.

"It's been a long few weeks, tala," Helaena ran her hand down her cheek. "But I'm here now."

Jaehaera flashed a smile before pulling her hand. "Come on, muña! Shiera is telling us a story about how the dragons defeated Princess Nymeria. And guess what? She got her book all the way from Lys!"

"Is that so?" Helaena raised her eyebrow at Shiera.

"We were just about to read the good part," Jaehaera kept pulling on her.

Deciding to indulge her daughter, Helaena mustered the best smile she could and followed her.

Respecting her status, Rhaena and Baela stood up to make room for Helaena to sit next to Jaehaera, with her taking Rhaena's place.

"Descending from the sky were three hundred dragons, who burned the Rhoynish to a crisp and making Nymeria flee in terror while the rest of her people were captured and put to better use," Shiera continued. "The Rhoynish wrought great pain on the Valyrians, which they repaid tenfold by destroying all traces of the water wizards making sure that the light of the Rhoyne would never outshine the one from Valyria ever again."

 _That is not how I learned it._ Maester Orwyle was quite neutral when he talked about the Rhoynish Wars, emphasizing only on the destructive aspects of them instead of what was gained. Whatever book Shiera held in her hand was very much in favor of the Valyrians, since it showed the wars as a consequence of Rhoynish actions.

"The dragons came onto the watermen and burned them," Jaehaera said with a little too much excitement. "Someday, I want to ride my own dragon and burn whoever I want."

Helaena patted her head. "I'd like to see that also, tala. But… be careful of who you wish to hurt. And dragons can't just be used however you want."

"Why not?" Jaehaera asked.

Helaena sighed. "A dragon will be connected with its rider for life and he or she will feel the same feelings you have. If you're happy, the dragon will be happy. If you're sad, the dragon will be sad. And if you're angry—"

"The dragon will be angry?"

Helaena nodded. "So be careful when you do have a dragon. And the children who might have hurt you might just need time to grow up before they can change."

"Like kepa?" Helaena's eyes darkened. "I hear you and kepa scream at each other sometimes. But I am not mad at you, since I did see other women enter his room."

Baela and Rhaena glanced at each other while Shiera listened with curiosity. Even little Aegon was surprised at this revelation.

"Be careful of who you talk to about that," Helaena warned Jaehaera. "It is something that I still have to take care of, and I don't need other people being involved."

"With respect," Baela stepped in. "She already told us everything. But please don't be mistaken in thinking that such occurrences will negatively affect our perception of you."

"And how so?" Helaena narrowed her eyes at Baela.

"Well… you're not like Aegon or Aemond," Baela began with. "And given what Jaehaera said about how Aegon treated you, it only confirms for us that not everyone of your mother's blood is evil."

"Careful," Helaena pointed her finger at Baela. "That's my mother you speak of."

"But where is she?" Shiera asked from behind her. "Where is your husband? Where are the rest of the councilors that sided with him? If they really did care about you, they would have done everything in their power to get you out. But they didn't."

Helaena gave her a mean look. "I'm sorry. Who are you?"

"I'm Shiera, daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Lady Mysaria."

 _The Lysene dancer?_ "Now that I see it, I can recognize a little of Daemon's blood in you."

"Of course," Shiera shrugged. "But going back on point, the people who left you here might come up with as many excuses as they could, but the truth of the matter is that they didn't see you as important enough. Otherwise, why are you still here?"

Helaena flared her nostrils, but she couldn't deny the logic behind her words. Alicent always did prefer her brothers to her, and she only supported her marriage to Aegon because it kept Hightower blood among her brood, an attitude that the rest of the green council had.

"To add on her words," Rhaena joined in. "Our mother treated you with decency. Many others would not have done so and she didn't have to, but she did it anyway. Do you know why?"

"Enlighten me," Helaena wanted to know where this was going.

"You have our blood, so that makes you family. And this war is tearing us apart, when in fact, we're stronger together," Rhaena answered. "Just like Jaehaera here is our family."

Helaena blinked, not expecting an answer like that. _Family? Is that why Baela and Rhaena took to her so well after Laena died, because Rhaenyra treated them as her own?_

"Something to think about," Baela finished. "And with your permission, we would like to bring Jaehaera to the kitchens to give her some lemoncakes."

Jaehaera beamed before looking up to Helaena. "Can I go, muña? Please?"

Helaena chuckled, amused at how the brood of Daemon had found the way to her daughter's heart. "All right. But only one piece, okay?"

Jaehaera jumped from the stone bench and grabbed Aegon's hand. "Come on!" And the two ran towards the kitchens, while Baela, Rhaena, and Shiera curtseyed to her before following after them.

Seeing how close her daughter was to Rhaenyra's oldest son by Daemon brought back memories to when she still had affections for her brothers. But out of all of them, only Daeron retained her good feelings. And she was worried about the prospect of Jaehaera progressing her relationship with little Aegon forward, given her experience with married life. _Will my life be the one also waiting for Jaehaera?_

"Your Grace," she heard a man with a deep northern brogue address her. Looking to her left, she saw what appeared to be a northerner with a black beard, long raven black hair, grey eyes, and wearing the sigil of the direwolf.

"Who are you?"

"Cregan of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North," he answered.

Helaena nodded, uneasy at being addressed by one of Rhaenyra's strongest allies, but given how she was treated so far, she didn't have any strong cause to be worried for her safety in Rhaenyra's custody. "My lord," she held out her hand.

Cregan kissed it. "I trust that you continue to be well-treated by Queen Rhaenyra."

"Decent enough," Helaena admitted.

Cregan looked in the direction where Jaehaera and the others went. "It's a strange feeling, isn't it, Your Grace?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Family. They say that blood is thicker than water and that no matter what happens, family will be the only thing left when the others have gone. My wife, Arra, gave me my boy Rickson, while my second wife Alysanne Blackwood birthed Sarra and Raya before passing on," Cregan looked to the ground in sadness.

"I am sorry, my lord," Helaena offered in sympathy, but she was puzzled at Cregan's sudden words on family. "But, I'm not sure why you are saying this."

"This war happened because certain people ignored the value of family, but as I observed Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon, I became more convinced that I chose the right side for my house. They treat their family well, including you and Princess Jaehaera, and that has to say much about where their true priorities are," Cregan replied as he quickly recovered from his brief moment of sorrow.

"Respectfully, Lord Cregan, your words don't carry a lot of weight, considering that you imprisoned your uncle and your cousins no matter how much justification you provide," Helaena pointed out.

"But I didn't kill them, Your Grace," Cregan made clear. "Their actions deserved death, but no matter my feelings, they were family and I didn't want to spill my own blood regardless of what they did. Lesser men would have done so for more trivial reasons."

"And would you say that my husband and brothers are like that? You would speak of my siblings so lowly, my lord?"

"Not all of your brothers," Cregan corrected. "I hear that Daeron is a good boy and has a sense of decency, but his support of his brothers is understandable, because he somehow believes in the same things that I believe in regarding family."

Helaena's eyes widened. She knew that Daeron would follow his family whether they were in the right or the wrong. _But how did Lord Cregan know that?_

"Aren't you supporting Rhaenyra because of Jacaerys' marriage to your half-sister?" She wasn't yet convinced that Cregan had pure reasons for supporting Rhaenyra.

"Well, I admit that was brought me and my bannermen this far, but I am convinced that a marriage into House Targaryen will not just be politically advantageous. Connecting my family with the brood of Daemon and Rhaenyra might set a good precedent for all to follow, as soon as people see that there is more to them than what others have said," Cregan explained.

Helaena crossed her arms. "You haven't known them as long as I have."

"Which is not much to go on, Your Grace, since you've been confined and then chose to remain in your chambers," Cregan said honestly. "As for myself, I am part of their council and thus possess an understanding of their personalities. If you really wish to see the truth of my words, maybe interact with them."

Helaena wasn't ready to do that yet, but Cregan's words were getting to her.

"Shall I relay to the Queen and the Prince Consort that you wish to speak with them, Your Grace?" Cregan offered.

"Why are you being involved, my lord?" Helaena was confused as to why the Lord of Winterfell was bothering.

"Because I value family and given my own experiences, I understand that family strength comes in unity, not division. And I would not be doing my duty if I didn't help in restoring the bonds between my lieges, Your Grace."

Helaena became more struck at how candid the head of House Stark was being with her.

"If you wish for me to relay your wishes, I can do so soon, because I have more business with Queen Rhaenyra," Cregan suggested.

 _What have I got to lose? They treated my daughter with kindness and she's happy,_ Helaena finally thought after a few minutes. "All right."

Cregan dipped his head to Helaena. "Your Grace."

As the Lord of Winterfell walked in the direction of the throne room, she found herself more conflict on what everyone had said about family. But just as important, she kept staring at Cregan's back, impressed with how a young man was able to conduct him so well at court. It certainly helped that he was strongly built, had a large sword strapped to his side, and carried himself with a strong air of certainty, all of which Aegon had lacked.

_Did the gods want me to talk to Lord Cregan? If so, I look forward to more words exchanged with him._

* * *

Rhaenys sat in the solar of the Tower of the Hand, across from Rhaenyra, Daemon, Lady Mysaria, Ser Medrick Manderly, and Cregan Stark and also next to her husband Corlys.

To her, it seemed as if a lot of time had passed from the last time that she had stepped foot in the Red Keep. Rhaenyra sat on the Iron Throne, her granddaughters Baela and Rhaena were accorded the honor of being princesses, and she was about to welcome one more grandchild with dragon's blood. _Nettles is a good girl and like Nyra promised, her child will be well taken care of._

At the same time, it felt refreshing to enter King's Landing without people whispering "It's the Queen Who Never Was" behind her back. Although she had moved past such low insults regarding her being the only child of Prince Aemon and Lady Jocelyn and how her grandsire so disgracefully put her aside, old habits die hard and she would have been tempted to slap the next person who dared call her by those words. Fortunately, because she was the goodmother of the rightful Queen, no one dared to badmouth her while assuming she couldn't hear.

And besides riding Meleys to King's Landing, Rhaenys never felt more powerful now. Her status as a princess didn't really do much for her during the reign of her grandsire and Viserys, even though she couldn't blame her first love for not doing including in the decision-making processes of the realm. But with her arrival and given that her Velaryon husband was Rhaenyra's Hand of the Queen, she was afforded a position on the small council as an advisor.

At the moment, only the Hand, the mistress of whisperers, and the two other advisors of the council (both being northmen) were present, as they wielded enough trust from her niece and nephew regarding the intimate matter that they were about to discuss.

"Before we begin, I would first like to formally welcome my aunt and goodmother, Princess Rhaenys," Rhaenyra gestured to her. "Even though the war is still raging and there is still much work to be done in stabilizing this city, it's good that you are here."

"Thank you," Rhaenys smiled.

"And as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, I have also decided to accord her the honors associated with a dowager queen, as she is the grandmother of two princesses at the moment," Rhaenyra continued. "Any objections?"

All present shook their heads, especially Corlys as he grinned at the honors laid upon his wife. But knowing her, Rhaenys knew that she would have done it anyway without their approval.

"All right. Let's begin with the first and most important piece of business: the recovery of my son, Prince Viserys," Daemon started.

Rhaenys was very worried about her youngest grandnephew's, and grandson's, safety, as he was held by forces currently hostile to her niece and gooddaughter. The reason why she was able to arrive in King's Landing only now was because there was relative inactivity from the Triarchy's threat on the Blackwater Bay and so only required the presence of the royal fleet to safeguard both Dragonstone and Driftmark. In addition, she had fully healed from her fight with the elder Aegon and was more than happy to be in the presence of her family again.

"Lady Mysaria," Rhaenyra started with the mistress of whisperers. "What songs have you heard regarding my son?"

"Your Grace, the songs I have heard have not been exactly forthcoming on his exact location," Mysaria answered. "But I did have an acquaintance with Bambarro Bazanne, a magister in Lys and the Triarchy's most dynamic leader. If anyone would know about where Prince Viserys is, it'll be him."

"What can you tell us about him, my lady?" Ser Medrick asked the former Lysene dancer.

"Like most men who made their fortune in Lys, Bazanne established his through control over many of its pillow houses and the slave trade. He also has close connections with the Rogare bank, currently the largest bank in the Triarchy and second only to the Iron Bank in terms of influence and financial content," Mysaria explained.

Rhaenys was only vaguely familiar with Magister Bazanne and the Rogares.

"Given that Lys is on an island and surrounded by whatever is left of their fleet, there is a high possibility that Prince Viserys is there and in the custody of either Bazanne or one of his partners, very likely the Rogares," Mysaria added.

"If that's the case, then we can expect to pay a fortune for his return," Ser Medrick assumed. "But it'll be also very unlikely that Bazanne would even let him go, with the hostilities between us and especially what happened with Saera Targaryen."

Everyone in the room knew the notorious tale of Saera Targaryen, the trouble child of Jaehaerys' brood but one who was treated so cruelly by her father and thus entered a pleasure garden in Lys.

"We need as much as coin as we can hold, as we have to pay for the troops and also think about rebuilding the realm once the war is over," Corlys said. "So, we can't pay the ransom for Prince Viserys' return."

Rhaenys raised an eyebrow at her husband. He was not known for being miser or careful with his coin, as he had spent quickly whatever riches he had acquired from his travels.

"I agree with the Lord Hand in that," Cregan joined in. "But I believe that we have an option and it will require some daring on our part."

"What do you mean?" Daemon became interested, as did the rest of those in the solar.

"From the lady mistress' word, Prince Viserys is for sure on Lys. I suggest we open negotiations first for his release."

Rhaenyra blinked. "That's hardly a good option, Lord Cregan, given what we had discussed."

"With respect, Your Grace, I was not finished. And there's a reason why I brought up the negotiations," Cregan replied.

Rhaenyra sighed before gesturing Cregan to continue. "Now, Aemond and the rest of the usurpers will also try to obtain custody of Prince Viserys. Alongside his safe return, our priority is to ensure that we are the only ones with the bargaining chips, namely Princesses Jaehaera and Helaena, while preventing the enemy from gaining their own. If we open our negotiations with the Triarchy in secret, we might be able to prevent the Triarchy from dealing with the usurpers exclusively."

"And where is this 'daring' part of your option?" Daemon, like his love, was getting impatient.

"The purpose of the negotiations is to buy time," Cregan responded. "Meanwhile, we select a few men of our own to enter Lys in disguise, track down Prince Viserys' exact location on the island, and if possible, snatch him from captivity."

Silence fell in the solar, most not expecting the head of House Stark to come up with an audacious plan with so much uncertainty attached to it.

"There are but a few complications with your option, Lord Stark," Mysaria looked at Cregan. "The Lysenes, my people, will be able to recognize Westerosi in an instant. It won't be long before the magister's men will view them with suspicion and imprison them as spies."

"I trust you have someone you can trust on Lys, Lady Mistress?" Cregan inquired.

"I do, but they might be hard pressed to explain the presence of northerners on Lys."

"Will the Lysenes be able to tell the difference between the First Men and Andals?" Cregan pointed out. "Besides, what can they say about traders coming in with fur coats?"

"My lord?" Corlys cocked his head at him.

"I know men from White Harbour who had conducted business in Lys before, men who are here in the capital right now," Ser Medrick clasped his hands together on the table. "They still have connections with the various traders there and I recently heard from a man sworn to my house that people from my home have continued their business on the island."

"Don't the Lysene know that the Starks are with us?" Daemon crossed his arms, still puzzled as to this gap of knowledge from their enemy's part.

"From what I heard from that man, Your Grace, who in turn heard it from his Lysene patron, the damaging of their fleet caused chaos amongst the Triarchy and there is tension brewing the powerful in the Three Daughters," Ser Medrick elaborated. "The good thing about that is that they are so focused securing themselves against each other that there are cracks forming in their general defenses, allowing men from White Harbour of all places to continue trading there."

Rhaenys was surprised at that pieces of news, as was most of the others in the solar, all except Cregan and Mysaria.

"Did you know of this?" Daemon turned to the mistress of whisperers.

Mysaria cleared her throat. "I did hear that Bazanne is having trouble keeping the rest of the Triarchy in line, especially since he has to defend the merits of Admiral Lohar. The Lysene ships were largely spared of the destruction at Driftmark, which quickly inflamed opinion among the other magisters."

"And you decided to tell us this now?" Rhaenyra exclaimed.

"I had to keep track on the man they called the Shepherd, who is as much of a threat to our cause as are the Triarchy and the usurpers. But I apologize for letting that information slip my mind," Mysaria offered remorsefully.

Rhaenys had heard tell about this Shepherd, who was gaining ears from especially the well-off sections of the capital. And it explained why the City Watch was more active than she had seen before. _What exactly is this Shepherd planning?_

Daemon came in the defense of his former lover. "She had important duties to fulfill, so we'll set aside her error. But Ser Medrick's information does change things."

"Which makes my option more viable," Cregan stated. "The magisters are too focused on each other, so we use that to our advantage. With the combination of House Manderly's connections to Lys and Lady Mysaria's little birds on that island, the chances of a select group of fighters going in under concealment to find and snatch Prince Viserys have increased."

Daemon and Rhaenyra slowly grinned at the boldness of Cregan's plan, as did Rhaenys. Here was a man who was about half the age of Daemon, but he already had a growing list of accolades to his name. Starting from asserting his rule over Winterfell at the expense of his uncle and cousins, he led the northmen southwards on an advance faster than anyone expected and helped secure both the riverlands and King's Landing from the usurpers. And now, he was doing what no Stark so far had ever done in the Seven Kingdoms and had come with a daring proposal for the rescue of Viserys that also had a good chance of success. _Where was this man all my life?_

But suspiciously, Corlys merely listened. When Daemon went on his conquest of the Stepstones, Corlys was very happy to support him since his goodson was a man after his own heart. But whether he held some prejudices against the northmen or didn't see Cregan's plan as bold enough for his taste, his present behavior was very unbecoming of him. _What in the hells is going on with him?_ she thought.

"Lady Mysaria," Rhaenyra looked at her mistress of whisperers. "Work with Ser Medrick on developing a plan to infiltrate Lys and rescue my son. Meanwhile, continue your efforts against the Shepherd."

"It will be done, Your Grace," she dipped her head, as did Ser Medrick.

"Corlys, continue to receive updates from the fleet at Driftmark. Tell them not to commit any offensive actions, as we need the magisters to continue focusing on each other rather than us," Daemon turned to his goodfather.

"Of course," Corlys nodded lightly.

"And Lord Stark, can you stay for a few moments? I feel that our previous discussion must be continued," Rhaenyra said to Cregan.

"Of course."

 _What discussion?_ Rhaenys sensed something odd about her words.

As Ser Medrick and Lady Mysaria exited the solar of the Hand, only Rhaenyra, Daemon, Corlys, and Rhaenys remained, the latter two because this was their residence in the capital as long as Lord Velaryon was the Hand.

"You impress me, Lord Cregan," Daemon drank his wine goblet. "Never thought a Stark would be capable of subterfuge."

"Perhaps you should read more of your history, Your Grace," Cregan stared back at him. "We Starks haven't ruled the north just on honor alone, as King Theon showed."

"Right. The Hungry Wolf," Daemon chuckled. "Crushing the Andals and crossing the ocean to their homelands. But he was the loud type, not someone you would expect to be sneaky."

"Who said that he was always rowdy when he did what he did? After all, the secret deeds are not ones that are usually written in the books," Cregan shrugged.

"You have a point over there," Daemon grunted in affirmation.

"And in addition, if the Lysenes have the same beliefs regarding my people as I have heard in this room, then the plan will work, as they wouldn't expect honorable to accomplish it," Cregan added.

Daemon chuckled, amused at how Cregan addressed the usual southern prejudice against the northmen without getting overly offended.

 _Why do I keep liking this Lord Stark more?_ Rhaenys found her amazement with the Lord of Winterfell growing, as he was able to trade wits with the one people still called the Rogue Prince.

"Regarding our last conversation," Rhaenyra stepped in. "Daemon and I have discussed it in length. Given your merits so far and especially the daring that you have displayed even now, we have decided to accept your request."

"Which request are you talking about?" Rhaenys had to know.

"Part of the reason why Cregan came with his northmen was the pact made between my son Jacky and Sara Snow," Rhaenyra explained to her goodmother. "The pact will continue through his daughter Sarra Stark and my son Viserys."

Rhaenys' eyes widened, as did Corlys. But for Cregan, he smiled in gratitude.

"Why haven't you discussed this with me before?" Corlys seemed frantic, surprising the Targaryens in the solar.

"Because it was a private matter as much as it was a political one," Daemon answered for Rhaenyra. "And given how much the northmen have done for us, we have an obligation to fulfill our vows with some of our strongest supporters."

"My gods, man!" Corlys ran his hand through his hair. "Do you even realize how the lords will react? They will object to a royal betrothal between Viserys and a northern girl."

"Careful, Lord Hand," Cregan growled through his teeth. "That's my daughter you speak of."

"You dare talk back to me, a boy who never even seen the outside of your frozen wasteland?" Corlys shot daggers at Cregan through his eyes, but the Lord of Winterfell stood his ground.

"You're one to talk, Lord Corlys, given you never been north of the Neck before," Cregan scoffed.

"The hells did you say to me, boy?" Corlys walked closer to Cregan, their foreheads almost colliding.

"Enough!" Rhaenyra shrilled. "This bickering is getting us nowhere. But goodfather, you're in the wrong here."

"What?" Corlys was shocked to hear those words from his gooddaughter.

"You might be the grandfather of Joffrey and you did show me kindness, but you forget one thing. I am the Queen and regarding matters of the family, I will make my own decisions. Viserys is my son and therefore, I have control over who he can marry," Rhaenyra put her foot down.

"Marriages especially between princes are matter of the realm, something that you can't decide on your own!" Corlys cried out.

"Corlys, be mindful of your place!" Daemon shouted. "And you're overreacting. To the rest of the lords, Viserys is the spare to little Aegon, so there won't be as much protests as you might expect. Plus, it is a good match, as we'll finally have northerners tied to the realm, something that is long overdue."

"But—"

"And that's all we'll hear on the matter," Rhaenyra cut him off. "On another note, I have decided to accept your request to include the boys Addam and Alyn in the succession for Driftmark should there be no more eligible claimants."

That quieted Corlys, as the death of Laenor and two of his grandsons left the successor of the Tides lordship in question.

"Thank you… Your Grace," Corlys said quietly.

"Now, I'm afraid I have some personal business with my daughter Visenya. I will see you all on the morrow," Rhaenyra stood up, had Daemon take her by the arm, and they both exited the solar.

As Cregan was about to also leave, Rhaenys stood up. "I'll walk you out, Lord Cregan." Before she did, she kissed Corlys on the cheek. "I'll be back, love."

Corlys smiled at her. "Don't make me wait."

Rhaenys nodded before both she and Cregan left the solar, but the Lord of Winterfell and the Hand exchanged one more glare. "I must apologize for my husband's words. He only has his family's interests at heart."

"Just as I have mine to worry about, Your Grace," Cregan answered.

"I must say that I am intrigued. You have three children to care for, and yet you're here down in the south and have proved your loyalty to my niece. What drove such actions on your part?" she inquired.

"Besides the Stark honor, I just needed some time, Your Grace."

"From what?"

"From dealing with my wife's death," Cregan admitted.

Rhaenys looked at the young Warden of the North empathetically. "I'm not going to say that I'm sorry, because those words are inadequate when describing loss. I have lost both of my children before my time, and no words could describe my sorrow when they both passed."

Cregan smiled sadly. "Thank you, Your Grace. Especially for sharing that with me."

"And I must say, not many men could persuade Daemon as you have done, but you did. What's more, you got a royal betrothal, which is more than what the lords sworn to my niece could hope to obtain at this point," Rhaenys showed how impressed she was.

"I merely wanted what was owed to my family when Prince Jacaerys, the old gods rest his soul, married my sister and took her maidenhead. Betrothals are not decisions to take lightly and I am aware about any potential protests the rest of the south might have," Cregan answered.

"Well, if it means anything, you have my support, Lord Cregan. Just bring Viserys back," Rhaenys told him as they had reached the exit of the Tower of the Hand.

"You have my word, Your Grace," he dipped his head before leaving towards another area of the Red Keep.

As for Rhaenys, she moved back up the steps of the Tower, looking forward to what time she had with Corlys but also keeping the young Warden of the North on her mind. _Will have to watch out for him. Proves that youth is no factor concerning experience._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helaena's flashback with Aegon was quite difficult for me, especially with the one in the last chapter. But her daughter Jaehaera is fitting in very well with the rest of the family, and Cregan is showing her the respect that she didn't get from Aegon.
> 
> And Rhaenys is showing herself as a valuable member of the Targaryens. However, it can be said that this chapter focused much on Cregan Stark based on his interactions with the dragons, giving important advice and getting along with all of them. Well, all except Corlys, who sees the Stark as a threat to his influence. That could only spell dark days for the Starks and Velaryons, both of whom have interests in ensuring that Rhaenyra wins but have different views of the future, with the Pact going against Corlys' ambitions. Consequently, we might have a seen a glimpse into what will happen years down the line in this universe.
> 
> Till next time.


	13. Riots of King's Landing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! How you all doing? 
> 
> I hope this season has been kind to you all despite how trying this year is. Let's just hope that next year will be much different and all of this a distant memory.

Orywle sat in one of the Black Cells, being chained to the wall while he was fed measly bread and water. It was quite the downfall for him, as Rhaenyra tore his chain from his neck and gave to Gerardys. _That bastard will know what’s coming to him._

But he had more important matters to worry about. Long has the Citadel been planning for when the dragons would start killing each other and show their true colors, as the first head of the order of the maesters saw the Targaryens as a threat to the good people of Westeros after he claimed himself as overlord over the Seven Kingdoms. _The dragonspawn created a throne and this city out of nothing, and they think they’re above us. They’re not, and this war shows just what happens when dragons fly in the sky._

The maesters had watched closely during the reigns of Viserys the First of His Name and then his competing heirs, Rhaenyra and Aegon. They couldn’t do anything against Viserys and his grandsire Jaehaerys, as they were agreeable enough and gave them concessions, even a prince and princess to join the Faith and be a maester. But the threat was always there in the Citadel’s perspective and they knew that their good relations with the last dragonlord family in the world would not last forever.

Their fears were realized when Viserys named Rhaenyra as his heir, ignoring the precedent set by his grandsire. Westeros and the Andals would never accept a woman ruler, and it was ridiculous for the Citadel to accept that a woman could successfully wield the reins of power. History showed a rather poor record of women in charge, such as Agnes Blackwood and Argella Durrandon. And since Westeros was united, the dangers of a woman in power were multiplied.

What played in the rest of the Citadel’s hands was that they were not the only ones who would never accept Rhaenyra, although the lords that did and Queen Alicent had their own reasons. Whatever they were, which were mostly linked to the Rogue Prince, they saw the death of Viserys as their chance to begin weakening the dragons.

Orwyle had remembered when he presented Aegon’s terms to Rhaenyra, knowing full well that she would reject them and even acknowledging Viserys’ wishes. The Citadel and certain members in the Starry Sept wanted him to make things worse, as they would never have another chance like this again.

But with King’s Landing falling rather easily and with Rhaenyra sitting on the Iron Throne itself, Orwyle knew that their plans had to be revised. Complicating matters was Cregan Stark and his northern army, since they greatly strengthened the pretender queen’s position and thus making the war less likely to go in their favor. Their end goal was the death of both Aegon and Rhaenyra, as well as a decrease in House Targaryen, but only the Velaryon sons, or “Strong” bastards, were dying.

As the Archmaester, Orwyle took it upon himself to make the adjustments. Fortunately, one of the guards in the Black Cells had contacts on the outside and Orwyle promised him a nice reward if he informed him of what was happening and passed messages when needed. That was how he knew about a certain man calling himself the Shepherd and his speeches against the Targaryens. _What I need exactly, at this moment._

Then, that guard told him that Lord Strong, the master of whisperers for Aegon, was currently in King’s Landing looking for ways to sabotage Rhaenyra. Orwyle told the guard, “Tell Lord Strong to contact the Shepherd. Perhaps, we can help each other get what we want.”

The guard soon told him that Lord Strong had made contact with the Shepherd, and the master of whisperers told him that they could use the discontent in the city and among the faithful to spark an uprising against her, her northern barbarians, and especially against the other dragons.

“Tell Lord Strong that I accept his plan, but he must do so quickly. We cannot allow Rhaenyra to get stronger,” Orwyle told the guard.

He knew that Lord Strong’s priorities were for his king, but Orwyle didn’t care who sat on the throne as long as House Targaryen was weakened and the dragons either decimated or all dead. The dragons, in his mind, granted too much power to the dragonlord kings to do as they wished, as Maegor showed. And there were too many to count. _If they continue to grow, the destruction of old Valyrian will be upon us._

Dragons, and any magic in general, allowed those to seek a place not of one’s predetermined station, and the society as envisioned by the Seven and the Andals organized people accordingly and thus creating a stable order. Orwyle thought that the destruction of the children of the Forest and the ways of the First Men meant order had prevailed, only for the dragons to come in and cause chaos.

Orwyle would do his part to ensure that the order in place by the Andals would remain and become stronger, as less dragons would lead to that outcome. And as the son of a lord, he knew that the order was too fragile, and the dragons would destroy it if they wanted to.

The guard told him, “Archmaester, Lord Strong wants you to know that the people are in an uproar and have begun burning areas of the city. It won’t be long before the Dragonpit is stormed.”

“Very good,” Orwyle whispered. “After this is all over, your name will be recorded in the annals of history and your family will be taken care of. You have my word on that.”

The guard nodded in satisfaction as he resumed his post. Orwyle leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. _Father, may peace reign throughout the Seven Kingdoms as the dragons die,_ he prayed.

* * *

Joffrey had just finished practicing with his training sword and after a long spar from Ser Lorent Marbrand. Daemon was currently occupied with the war against the usurpers in the family, so the only other man qualified to train him with the blade was the Lord Commander of the Queensguard himself. Ser Lorent proved to be an able and loyal follower of his mother, given that his house was fighting for the usurpers, and was qualified to wear the white cloak. He couldn’t complain on who was training him.

But he had no one else to train with him at the moment. Jacaerys and Lucerys were dead, Aegon was not the same after that battle off Driftmark, and Viserys was held captive by his mother’s enemies across the narrow sea. As far as he knew, he was the only boy of dragon’s blood currently in the Red Keep and thus the oldest likely heir to his mother for the Iron Throne. It took some time to get used to people calling him “Your Grace”, but he could not run away from where he was now.

And he wasn’t blind to what many saw him as: a bastard of Strong blood. The only reason why he was able to pull through was because of Jacaerys and Lucerys defending him and protecting each other, but they were gone now. Even as he rested in the training yard, Joffrey caught some glances from some of the people in the Red Keep, the same looks that the older Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron gave him when people really believed that he was not his father’s son.

Joffrey thought of any reason to make his existence more bearable. Maybe his father Laenor was so threatening of a man that people sought to create any rumors to make him look bad, whether it be him liking men or even boys. Maybe because they were so offended of his mother being the heir to the throne and sought to disgrace however they could, which included her being a “whore.” He forgot how many times he struck boys his age because they called her that. Whatever it was, to say that he and his older brothers had a hard time growing up was an inadequate way of describing their hardships and each of them sought release from the vile words thrown their way. Joffrey was disappointed when he saw Jaecerys come out of a brothel and sleep with maids and whatever women he could and Lucerys showed that he couldn’t be trusted to make decisions by himself, such as the time he brawled with a squire because he called their mother a “common harlot.” Rather than trying to be different, they responded as everyone else expected of bastards and thus brought their reputation down.

Not helping matters was the fact that he had to interact with his future goodbrothers, Medrick and Torrhen. It was the first time that he had met them, as Jacaerys made the betrothal on his behalf. And looking upon the plump men of House Manderly, a family who couldn’t hold on to their original castles and had to be exiled from the Reach, made Joffrey more disinclined to get to know who his extended family were.

Even though he was young, he knew what it meant to be powerless and scorned and thus sought to distance himself away from those that would bring him down, with the Manderly brothers being among them. “Your Grace, my name is Ser Medrick Manderly. I was told that—”

“As Prince of Dragonstone, I do not wish to be associated with exiles,” Joffrey cut him off.

“Your Grace?” Ser Torrhen didn’t expect that.

“Why would I want to be associated with weaklings? After all, you weren’t able to stay where your family was born and had to flee to the northern wastelands,” Joffrey held no bars back.

“Your Grace,” Ser Torrhen took offense. “I don’t know what prompted you to speak to us like this, but we have done nothing to deserve it.”

“And Your Grace, I must point out two things, respectfully,” Ser Medrick looked as if he choked on the words that were coming out of his mouth. “Your brother, may the gods rest his soul, agreed upon a betrothal between Your Grace and my sister. Betrothals can be easier to start if the rest of the family has a good relationship with the groom. And second, and please don’t be offended, but you’re not Prince of Dragonstone, not until Her Grace decreed it so.”

Joffrey kicked him in the shin, causing Ser Medrick to lean down and rub it while his brother helped him. “How dare you talk to me like that! I am the Prince and you shall talk to me with respect!” And Joffrey stormed off, not wanting to apologize.

Of course, Rhaenyra scolded him by spanking his bottom and telling him to apologize to the Manderlys. But Daemon suggested that he first learn humility through hard training. And that was how Joffrey was training hard with Ser Lorent in the first place.

But after drinking some water from the ladle, Joffrey set down his training sword and moved to leave the training yard. “Your Grace, we haven’t finished with the session for today,” Ser Lorent called out to him.

“I’m tired, Ser Lorent. Take the rest of the day off and leave me alone,” Joffrey wanted to avoid more training and wanting to talk to his mother about becoming the Prince of Dragonstone since he was the oldest boy left.

“I have orders from the Prince Consort, Your Grace. He told me that—”

“I’m a prince, Ser Lorent,” Joffrey replied with indignance. “Show me some consideration and let me rest.” He quickly walked away, not allowing Ser Lorent to answer back. _As if I would allow him. His family is full of traitors._

He wanted to talk to his mother first about his proper title and then to complain about what his stepfather was making him do. He was initially in awe of having the Rogue Prince be in his home, but he grew resentful once he saw how he and his mother displayed their affections with each other. He never saw such feelings between her and his father Laenor, and to his regret, he could never be as close as he wanted to be with little Aegon and Viserys because of that. He now had a baby sister, Visenya, and wanted a chance to make things right. Nevertheless, his mother not loving his father didn’t make things easy.

Unlike his older brothers while they were still alive, he kept his bitterness hidden, but the pain of his mother being more loving with Daemon stung very much. And anytime he tried to talk about his father, both he and his mother avoided the subject. _They really didn’t love each other._ And it made him afraid of whether he would be a good husband to Lord Manderly’s daughter, as he didn’t think he could provide a good marriage himself despite seeing what it could be. _I can never accept Daemon not because of anything he did, but because he was the husband my mother wanted and I have to live that my father and her had to be apart._

Approaching the solar used by his mother, he saw the door slightly ajar and heard voices, one of which he recognized as Daemon’s. Peeking through, he saw Daemon sitting across from who Joffrey recognized as Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. His personal opinion of the head of House Stark grew positive after seeing Cregan help Daemon beat down Ulf and Hugh for how they talked so recklessly to his mother. But as he was the overlord of the Manderly brothers, he didn’t want to get too close to him.

Judging from the expressions of both Daemon and Cregan, they seemed to be talking about something important. _But what is it?_

He got his answers soon enough. “I heard from Lady Mysaria that Aemond just married Floris Baratheon in a rushed ceremony before the Seven,” Cregan said.

Daemon scoffed. “My gods. My nephew finds time to get married while the stormlords are beginning to grow more discontent with him. He must be getting very desperate if he wedded and bedded the pretty stag so quickly.”

“I wouldn’t be so dismissive of his actions, Your Grace. After all, the Baratheons are not done fighting yet and we still need to contend with the armies led by Criston Cole,” Cregan reminded him.

“Right,” Daemon nodded. “What do you suggest that we do?”

“Well, we need to counter their movements before they could penetrate the northern areas of the Reach. Since Lord Merryweather and Lord Caswell have sided with us, it is imperative that we reinforce them to make sure that the Lannister and Hightower army don’t make any significant advance up the rose road.”

“And how do you suggest that we do so?”

“We reinforce Tumbleton and Bitterbridge, as the enemy cannot advance on King’s Landing without control of those towns. I suggest using my northern troops and the Valemen under Ser Royce for this purpose, as there has been no significant activity in the riverlands and on the eastern borders of the Westerlands for many weeks now.”

“Agreed. Although I don’t expect Willem Royce and the Corbray brothers to be entirely cooperative with me, given what I had tried to do all those years earlier,” Daemon said.

“Hasn’t stopped you from achieving your goals so far, regarding the opinions of other men.”

“I suppose not,” Daemon cracked a smile.

“With Tumbleton and Bitterbridge buttressed, we can use the northern Reach as a place to either strike further south or open up a second line of advance onto Storm’s End. If we are to safeguard the capital, we have to be aggressive and not allow the enemy to be in a position to strike at us, Your Grace.”

“I got that,” Daemon rubbed his chin. “But besides Criston Cole, we have to contend with at least two dragons on the side of the usurpers that can fly: the great Vhagar and the Blue Queen. No one has heard much word of Sunfyre, meaning that the older Aegon is still indisposed, although that still leaves two dragons who can cause much damage to our cause.”

“As Aemond perfectly showed us,” Cregan stated. “Although, I must admit that his willingness to burn his own men was something I had not expected even from what I had heard of him.”

“You don’t know him as well as I do, but ever since the war had started, I’m beginning to wonder if I knew my own nephew at all,” Daemon admitted.

Joffrey listened with great interest. For the first time, he was hearing about what others said about Aemond besides the words said to his face and was learning much about what strategy was amongst the grownups, but he still had a long way to go before he could understand what they were actually saying.

“If I may, Prince Daemon, may I be privy to some knowledge regarding what kind of Aemond is, or was? As someone who commands one of the Queen’s able forces, I need to know who our foes are so that I can make the best contributions I can against the usurpers,” Cregan clasped his hands together.

Daemon leaned back and sighed, with Joffrey knowing that his stepfather once had a good relationship with Aemond until he was called back to Dragonstone and Ser Criston took over his nephew’s training. “Okay,” he conceded. “What do you wish to know?”

“Besides his weaknesses and strengths, Prince Daemon, I want to understand just why treasonous thoughts would enter his mind and why would the older Aegon make him his regent, given that his younger brother has no political training or experience to call upon?” Cregan asked with expectation.

“You really think that by understanding him, you’ll beat him?” Daemon showed his interest in how Cregan thought.

“I had to understand my own uncle and work within his rules before I could force him from Winterfell. You can’t hope to win against a capable person until you can understand him or her. That’s what I learned, Your Grace,” Cregan explained.

“Then you’ve learned well,” Daemon smiled approvingly. “I’ll start with this. Did you know that the older Aegon whored around and neglected Helaena?”

“I’ve heard about his affairs and that the marriage between him and his sister-wife was… complicated, to say the least,” Cregan revealed.

“But do you know who was the most disappointed with his behavior, besides Helaena?” Daemon posed.

“His brothers.” Joffrey saw Cregan answer with such speed and certainty.

“Most of all, Aemond. Just imagine seeing your brother, the one born before you, and raised to believe in what a prince would do… only to see him destroy all of your hopes and also making himself look bad?” Daemon outlined.

“Surely, such actions would reflect badly on the elder Aegon himself and not his siblings,” Cregan offered.

“In most cases, yes, but Aemond is not the type to take personal disappointments well, since he was raised to expect only the best effort from everyone, which is the type of role a younger brother would play.” Cregan hummed in agreement. “And with Aegon not taking his duties seriously, he decided that he would not trust in anyone else again and that’s what eventually led to him bonding with Vhagar, since he thought that having the biggest dragon in existence besides Balerion would make him strong and thus relying only on himself when his brother failed him.”

“Pity,” Cregan could only say.

“Indeed,” Daemon concurred. “I offered to train the boy since I felt that he needed some direction after that incident with the Velaryon boys, and it went well until that steward showed up,” he said that last part with venom.

Joffrey always found it weird that Daemon referred to him and his brothers while they were still alive as the “Velaryon boys” instead of by their first names. _Granted, we’re not his blood, but still…_

“And you blame Criston Cole for bringing out the nefarious elements of Aemond’s personality,” Cregan concluded.

“Every Targaryen has the potential to commit dark deeds, Lord Cregan. Take it from King Maegor and even my grandsire King Jaehaerys, who wasn’t exactly a nice man and whose actions eventually led to this mess,” Daemon quietly fumed.

“Of course,” Cregan was not surprised and was not impressed with Jaehaerys’ reputation.

“But it takes the actions of others to really bring our more sinister sides into the light. And Criston Cole was that man to make Aemond a skilled man with a sword but without the restraint that handling a weapon required,” Daemon added.

“And can you please tell me more about Ser Criston? I’ve heard much about him, but I never met the man. If Aemond is as wicked as you say he is, I want to know more about the man who made that happen,” Cregan continued to press.

Daemon shook his head with disapproval whenever Criston’s name was mentioned. “People in the riverlands think that the Freys are the biggest upstarts there are, but those people clearly haven’t met Criston if they came to such a conclusion.”

“Please enlighten me, Prince Daemon.”

“Criston is comparable to the Tyrells in the Reach, where his status as a steward made him vie for any opportunity he could get to move up. And when he obtained that lucky win against me at Maidenpool, he found his first and most certain way to move up: my wife, the Queen herself,” Daemon outlined.

Joffrey also had a distaste of Criston Cole, but this was the first time that he had heard an explanation on why that was.

“And thus began the steward’s long association with Rhaenyra,” Daemon continued. “He was at her side for years and up to her marriage with Laenor. It’s because of her that he was even allowed to become a kingsguard in the first place.”

Cregan kept listening, but Joffrey recognized his eyes were actively scanning his stepfather, resembling a hawk or more appropriately a wolf stalking his prey. Whether Daemon picked up on his eyes was unknown to him.

“You did not answer the question, Your Grace,” Cregan said.

“I beg your pardon?” Daemon was surprised.

“I’ve heard the stories regarding Ser Criston’s relationship with Her Grace, something that almost resembled a girl falling in love with a dashing warrior. But I have heard nothing that would suggest him being an upstart, because if that was the case, then Ser Criston chose a very poor place to advance himself since anything he would accomplish would die with him due to his kingsguard vows,” Cregan explained.

Daemon blinked, not expecting Cregan to come up with that assessment, but recovered. “Once Criston fell out of my wife’s good graces because he wanted more than what she was willing to give, he found another benefactor in Queen Alicent and then her children. If he can’t find a royal that he can use to move up, he’ll just find another.”

“But as I said, as a kingsguard, whatever his success is won’t last after he dies,” Cregan repeated. “Unless… you see him as an upstart because he was a rival to you regarding Her Grace’s feelings.”

“What makes you think that?” Daemon cocked his head.

“You really should be more careful with how you describe people you don’t personally like. I can tell that you feel some melancholy for Aemond, Prince Daemon, but it’s clear that you personally hate Criston. Which makes me wonder on what exactly happened between the two of you besides that tourney at Maidenpool?”

“I would tread very carefully, my lord. You are touching on events that are personal to the family,” Daemon warned him.

Cregan exhaled while a smug grin grew on his face. “Thank you for giving me more confirmation. Which brings us to what exactly happened between Criston and Her Grace on Dragonstone?”

“What do you mean?” Daemon narrowed his eyes.

“King Viserys married Alicent Hightower, but all four children had the Valyrian traits. Prince Aemon married Jocelyn Baratheon, and Rhaenys inherited the Valyrian eyes. Aemma Arryn had the silver hair, which allowed her to pass on the Valyrian traits to Her Grace the Queen. But not the Velaryon princes,” Cregan pressed on.

Joffrey’s blood turned hot. This wasn’t the first time someone implied that he was not of his mother’s blood, but he was going to be damned if he wasn’t going to burst in and put a stop to it. But for Daemon, his face grew slowly pale, confounding Joffrey.

“Your words border on treason, Lord Stark,” Daemon tried to stop him.

“Why do you give me more reason to suspect and more indication that I’m right?” Cregan sighed in satisfaction. “So… Laenor really didn’t father them, did he?”

Joffrey waited for Daemon’s response, eagerly expecting his stepfather to answer with a “no” and to put the wolfman in his place.

But rather than that, Daemon slowly shook his head, turning Joffrey’s blood cold? _What?_

“And it’s not Harwin Strong, is it?” Cregan inquired.

“That’s what most would believe,” Daemon quietly said.

“Then… Cole?”

Daemon slowly nodded, accepting that Cregan had pieced it all together. “Nyra saw Cole as her only release from her loveless marriage with Laenor and their time on Dragonstone was what led to the births of her ‘Velaryon’ sons. But once Criston declared his love for her, she said no and had him moved back to King’s Landing. When he tried to rape her, she scratched his face and thus ending whatever connection they had since she was seven name days.”

But suddenly, Daemon stood up, went around to Cregan’s side, picked him up by his collar, and slammed against the wall. “If you say anything about this, I will kill you. I don’t care what you’ve done for us or whether the northern lords will rebel. I will end you, if that’s what it takes to protect Nyra and our family.”

Cregan reached to Daemon’s hands and pushed them away while he adjusted his shirt. “Well, then. You have nothing to worry about, since I have no good reason to reveal that to anyone, anyways. I simply want to see you if you trust me with such secrets, and to motivate you should you forget our arrangement for Viserys marrying my daughter Sarra.”

Daemon laughed darkly. “You know, they say that northerners are fools, but those who say that clearly haven’t met you. You really are something else, aren’t you?”

“Just as you will protect your family, I will protect mine. So… let’s remember what will happen to our families should there be a breach in trust between us. More importantly, we’ll be family soon once Viserys returns safely, so we should not have any secrets between us.”

Daemon cracked a cold smile. “I agree.”

As for Joffrey, he had felt his world come crashing down, as this was the first time that he had heard his stepfather reveal the truth. The cold, unforgiving truth.

All of his hopes and expectations had come crashing down, as the realization of the people who longed scorned him and his older brother having been right all along hit him so very hard. The fact that Harwin Strong didn’t father them and that he was still his mother’s son did nothing to comfort to him, as his real father was the very man that he had grown to hate so much because he fought against his mother. _So… I am a bastard after all. Just not a “Strong” one._

He felt himself hyperventilating, as the truth grew too much for him to handle. _I have to get out of here!_ Not wanting to be near the place where his whole world had come crashing down, he sprinted away, not noticing the door opening and Daemon seeing his stepson growing smaller in the hallway.

“Joffrey!” he called out, the shock in his voice evident as he realized that his stepson had heard everything. But before he could call the guards, Joffrey had skirted past the many courtiers and lords in the Red Keep and out onto the causeway that led into the main city.

“Your Grace! Come back!” a few of the Targaryen guards and even Ser Cargyll ran after him.

But having been trained by Ser Lorent and people having called him a strapping boy, he was able to run into the many alleyways of the larger city ahead of those that were trying to bring him back to the Red Keep. _I don’t want to go back anymore._

Passing by the many shops and running down the various streets of the capital, Joffrey looked behind and saw that no one was following him. Taking a few moments to catch his breath, he sat down in between some stands and put his head on his knees as the tears streamed out.

_I hate mother, because she is a whore. I hate father, since he’s nothing to me now. I hate Criston, since he was evil. I hate Daemon, since he knew everything and didn’t tell me. I am nothing now!_

So much hate filled his insides, as life as he knew it was over for him. He could never look at his mother the same way again, nor find comfort in her embrace. He could never defend himself against those that called him a bastard, since that was what he was now. He could never call himself a true dragon, since he saw himself as a half-breed. And he could never pride himself in where he came from now on, since it was all a lie.

He didn’t know how long he had wept, as time no longer mattered to him. But as he slowly stopped crying, his mind started to clear. As he sat there, he tried to understand why his mother would sleep with Criston and why she would hide it. He didn’t know what happened that made his mother marry his Velaryon father, but it must’ve poisoned any chances of them being happy forever. He suspected that she always had feelings for Daemon, but circumstances prevented them from being together for so long before their wish was granted. And he began to remember that his mother did love him, as she held him as tightly as she did with his Targaryen half-brothers, the ones who were truly dragons. He started to wonder if there were many things that he still did not understand, things that prevented him from knowing the truth. Wiping the tears from his face, he stood up and adjusted his clothes. Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he looked up at the Red Keep, the dreaded fortress of red that many were dying for at this moment, even his real mother.

 _It’s time that I know the truth, from her lips. No more lies and no more hiding._ He resolved that he was going to hear what really happened from the woman who gave birth to him. _I’m tired of feeling weak, and she is still my mother. I really want to understand her and why she did it._

He hoped that after all was said and done, things could go back to normal and that he could be a son to his mother, and she could remain his mother.

But as he began to return to the Red Keep, he heard shouting. Looking to his left, he saw smoke arising from around the Dragonpit. His eyes widened, knowing that something was happening and whatever it was, the dragons were in danger.

Immediately, he ran towards the Dragonpit, the urgency to protect the dragons replacing his feelings of sorrow and hatred. He had always wanted to ride a dragon and felt some protectiveness over them. _I have to see if they’re all right!_

But as he made his way there, he started to see the many goldcloaks either march in formation or fighting smallfolk armed with torches or any tools that they could get their hands on. There was so much fighting in the streets that the stones were soaked with blood and Joffrey had to jump over a few bodies that were cut down.

A man armed with a club was run through a goldcloak, his corpse falling just in front of Joffrey. He looked up and saw the goldcloak stare at him, but for some reason, he didn’t recognize him. A tense moment passed, with Joffrey shaking at what he would do, before the goldcloak pushed him away from the carnage. “Go home, boy! And stay there!”

Joffrey ran off, getting closer to the Dragonpit as more of the city was being engulfed in violence. _I don’t understand. What’s going on here?_

Finally reaching the Hill of Rhaenys, he saw fires coming out of the Dragonpit and a multitude of goldcloaks lying dead all over the exterior. Joffrey instantly felt dread, as he knew that whoever attacked was now inside and not doing good things to the dragons. Ignoring the danger that was posed to him entering, Joffrey ran past the bodies, waving off the smell and flies, and went in.

He forgot how cavernous the lair of the dragons was, as he had to adjust his eyes to the darkness of it. The torches did little to light the way, but he saw more bodies strewn about, a mixture of smallfolk and the famed Dragonkeepers. He counted less than fifty Dragonkeepers as he continued deeper, confusing Joffrey as he viewed the guardians of the dragons as equal to that of the kingsguard. And he found that whoever came inside had smashed through the doors of the Dragonpit's lesser entrances, made of oak and iron, with each of the doors either smashed or cut through.

 _What is happening?_ Hearing the roars of the dragons made him run faster and the screams of people inside only told him that the creatures were in danger.

Finally entering the resting area where the five dragons were, Joffrey saw each of them had been awakened, been roused, and were very angry. Alarming Joffrey was that each of them was being swarmed by a crowd of people, all of them attacking for reasons still unknown to Joffrey.

Unable to fly away, as they had been chained, the five dragons fought against their attackers with their horns, claws, and teeth. They had let loose their dragonflame and transformed the Dragonpit into a fiery inferno, with many dying and becoming ash but they were still being attacked and even hurt.

Joffrey could only watch in horror, as the first dragon to die was Shrykos, who was slain by a man carrying an axe. He had leapt onto her neck, locked his legs around it, and drove his axe down into the dragon's skull, striking her seven times. “For the Seven and the death of the dragons!” he yelled with each blow.

He turned and saw Morghul also dying, slain by a knight who was already burning, who rushed into the stream of dragonfire and stabbed the he-dragon repeatedly in the eye with his spear as he burned to his own death. And like the man with the axe, he kept shouting, “For the Seven and the death of the dragons!”

_The Seven? Why are the Faith wanting to hurt the dragons?_

Joffrey had no time to ponder those thoughts, as he next saw Tyraxes burning those who rushed at him from his lair, until the front entrance of his lair was completely blocked with corpses. But the oldest son of Rhaenyra saw that the mob had soon broken through the back door of his lair, the dragon becoming entangled in his own chains and was slain by them. What was more sickening was that Joffrey could see each of the smallfolk cutting into his membranes in the wings and tearing them into many strips. They then wore the dragonskin around their shoulders like cloaks, all the while praising the Seven for such twisted gifts.

Joffrey’s fists tightened as he saw Dreamfyre almost free from her chains. _Come on, you can do it!_ She took wing and he saw that the she-dragon had burned more men that the other three dragons combined, as the crowd was hesitating to go near her and there were piles of ashen bodies around her. However, she seemed to not see very well and was very and riled from how she was just pushing people away with her wings. She took flight, but flew into the pit's great dome above, which cracked on impact. Dazed, she fell back down, and the stones from her collision above fell onto her and whoever was unlucky to be nearby.

Joffrey coughed as the dust spread from the stones falling. Scanning around, he then saw Syrax chained. His mother’s yellow dragon was sent there in order to be around dragons, as it was deemed that she would be happy around more of her kind. However, the mob had seen the yellow dragon, recognizing it as Rhaenyra’s, and moved to attack her.

Having seen four dragons die before him, Joffrey looked around and grabbed some keys from a dead dragonkeeper. Finding a way around the crowd, he was able to circle around them and reached Syrax before he did. As they got close, he tried one key to free her, but it was the wrong one.

Seeing the mob come closer, he grew desperate after the second key failed to open. But with the third key, the chains were unlatched and fell from Syrax’s form.

“What are you doing, boy?!” Joffrey heard someone yell at him. As the mob stopped once they saw a freed dragon, an old man who was sallow and resembled a skeleton due to his skin barely hanging off of his bones show himself. “The dragons are an abomination! They must be killed! Why are you freeing them?”

Joffrey exhaled, trying to control his fear. “I am Joffrey Velaryon, son of Rhaenyra, rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And you will not touch Syrax.”

The old man’s eyes widened. “He’s a dragonspawn! Kill him!”

Joffrey whipped around, trying to ride Syrax out of there. He barely clung onto her spines as she breathed out her fire and used her tail to thrash some of her attackers away. “Come on! Fly!”

As if hearing his plea, Syrax roared and forced her way to the front entrance, burning many more as she went. As for Joffrey, he saw a man trying to jump on and force him off, but he pushed him off before he got a hold.

Seeing the entrance near, Joffrey yelled out, “Almost there! Fly!” But he felt himself being pulled off, the spines of his mother’s dragon slipping from his fingers as he found himself lying on the ground, surrounded by a mob.

And as he did, the crowd watched as Syrax finally took flight and seeing that the entrance was too far had opted to fly through the opening that Dreamfyre had made.

Joffrey smiled as he said to Syrax, “That’s it. Fly on!” But now realizing that he was surrounded by the mob, he also noticed that he was near a dragonkeeper’s corpse, his sword still sheathed. He knew that he was outnumbered, but he thought to himself, _I’m not going to lie down._

Pulling the dead dragonkeeper’s sword from its scabbard, Joffrey applied what he had just learned from Ser Lorent as he swung at the crazed smallfolk. Fortunately for him, most of those people had no training with arms whatsoever and were surprised at how a young boy was able to hold them off.

Joffrey parried a man’s torch before running him through. Another tried to club him, but he caught him just in time and slashed across his belly. He didn’t have time to process that he had just made his first kills, for yet another tried to strike with a rock.

Joffrey lost count on how many people were either killed or cut, but eventually, after stabbing one with the dragonkeeper’s sword, someone knocked it out of his hands and the mob quickly swarmed him, pinning down to the ground. The old corpse then walked over and stared down at him.

“That was a mistake, Velaryon,” he hissed. “You should have let us kill the dragon, and now you killed some of the faithful.”

“I am the blood of the dragon, and I protected one,” Joffrey said to him.

“Not all,” the shepherd grabbed an axe and raised it above Joffrey. “The gods curse you and bid you leave to the Seven Hells!”

 _I forgive you, mother. Syrax is safe,_ were his final thoughts as the axe fell on his head and everything turned to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, for one, believed that the Dance of the Dragons was a larger conspiracy that exploited the tensions in House Targaryen, and it's very possible that Orwyle intentionally sabotaged the first stages just to kickstart the war. And the conspiracy will be revealed to be larger in later chapters. 
> 
> This chapter was largely Joffrey's (not the blonde shit in canon, just to remind you all), and how he was coming to terms that Criston was not his father. And we see here that the opening events of the riots are largely the same, with the storming of the Dragonpit (except Syrax is there and not in the Red Keep). But Joffrey shoes his dragon side dominating by protecting his mother's mount and taking some of the rioters out before being killed the Shepherd. But considering the circumstances, the riots will not have the same end result. And Joffrey went out with a bang. 
> 
> Until next time. And Merry Christmas to you all! 


	14. Riots of Oldtown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, how you all doing? I hope you all are continuing to be safe and still starting off the new year right. 
> 
> Been busy with so much stuff, but I've been writing when I can. So without further ado, here is the next chapter.

Daeron grasped the reins of his warhorse as he rode through the streets of Oldtown, with his three-year old nephew Maelor in a carriage, surrounded by members of the Oldtown City Watch and led by Ser Rickard Thorne. Tessarion hovered above, ready to land near her rider should the need arise. While he could've ridden his dragon above in relative safety, the safety of his last remaining nephew was of the utmost importance to him and he needed to make sure that he was close by to him. _Helaena would expect nothing less of me._

Daeron had been mostly occupied with keeping the peace at Oldtown with Maelor by his side, but he continued to be informed with the progress of the war due to his mother keeping him in the loop. He had heard about the battle on the Wendwater, Aemond's wedding to Floris Baratheon, and the strategic situation in the northern Reach. He shouldn't have been overly surprised at Aemond burning their own troops at the Wendwater, but he kept to thinking to himself whether Aegon was the only one making things worse for them. "Aemond, you might have married Floris Baratheon, but I don't think Lord Baratheon will forget that you burned his bannermen," he said to himself upon hearing the news.

While Maelor was safe in the Hightower, Aemond, his mother, Lord Cole, and the rest of the small council didn't call him back. He sensed the reason that was so was because they didn't see him as possessing what it took to win the war. It certainly didn't help that they suspected of him having some emotional connection to the other side, although they didn't say it to this face.

Daeron had to also think upon the last time that he had seen his brother, who had been sheltered at Brightwater Keep. Relieved that Sunfyre was still alive and healthy, the guards bowed as he passed by. _He must be healing well, isn't he?_

But he was soon vindicated in his doubts, as he heard giggling in Aegon's chambers. Daeron scoffed, angered that even during wartime, his pig brother still indulged himself and took care of his own pleasures. _Everyone's fighting for him to be on the throne, even myself because I'm his brother, and this is how he repays us? For fuck's sake!_ He quickly noticed that he cursed.

Barging into the room, Daeron was profoundly shocked at what he had seen. Although heavily scarred and in his night dress, his brother was watching as one of his male companions, who Daeron forgot the name of, coupled with a Florent servant. They were not even on the bed, as the Florent servant and his male companion were having intercourse on the floor. Making it worse was that Aegon was evidently rubbing his cock his good hand, meaning that he was feeling pleasure from it. Daeron felt his hand turn into a fist at the sight. _Just when I thought he couldn't sink any lower…_

But he was soon proven wrong, as he recognized Septon Eustace in the same chamber, witnessing everything. That's when Daeron realized that Aegon had some idea that what he was doing was wrong, but he thought his weeping in the aftermath would be enough for Eustace to grant him absolution from his sins. _Oh, that does it!_

Daeron grabbed a wineglass and threw it at the wall, smashing it and the sounds getting everyone's attention. "Get. Out," he ordered them through gritted teeth.

The servant girl and Aegon's male companion got dressed quickly and scurried out of the room. "That includes you, Septon."

"Your Grace," Eustace knew better than to argue with the younger but more able brother.

"What the fuck was that, Daeron?" Aegon was very displeased.

Which didn't match the ire his brother felt. "You do this, while everyone is fighting for you?"

"As they should," Aegon said dismissively.

Daeron huffed. "You can't bed a woman, so you watch others do it? Do you not feel anything for Jaehaerys, for Maelor, for Jaehaera, for Helaena?!"

"Helaena is not pretty enough for me. If I lost children, I can make more."

 _For the love of the gods!_ Daeron was horrified at how pitiless his brother was, which could match Aemond's.

"You know what? I'm done, Aegon. I don't care anymore if you live or die. Helaena is a good woman and a great mother, but you couldn't see that. Even if we win, I will actively try not to see you and be far away from you as I can. What you did now, it crossed the line," Daeron declared.

"I don't care. Now, if you are able, please leave," Aegon waved him off.

Daeron shook his head before turning around, getting out of Brightwater Keep, onto Tessarion's back, and flew back to Oldtown. _Why am I doing this? Why do I even fight?_

Daeron sighed at that memory, which took place only a few weeks ago. And now, he was a hero for the greens and having responsible for what many saw as the future king of the Seven Kingdoms, his nephew. _Please protect my nephew, as he's the only one worth fighting for now_ , he prayed.

But Ryam, the Seneschal of the Citadel and the Hightower, the commander of the Oldtown City Watch, recommended that highest-ranking maester at the moment with Archmaester Orwyle in custody, and Ser Myles Maelor be shown to the rest of the city in order to reassure the population that the war was not lost, that there was hope that they would triumph against the usurpers. However, Daeron was against it, since he was just informed of the riots of King's Landing, which Ryam described as a "minor disturbance that nonetheless showed the cracks forming in Rhaenyra's ranks." He was not about to accept Ryam's reassurances, as the rumors of the threat from the city's underbelly had persisted and he needed to keep his nephew safe from any potential threat.

"If we don't show our future Prince of Dragonstone and King as healthy and alive, there'll be panic in our streets. We must have order in the midst of this terrible war, the war that your sister had started by not seeing that a woman could never rule these Seven Kingdoms," Ser Myles stated.

Daeron cleared his throat. "Don't forget to mention that my father made her the heir, but my brother was pushed into assuming the throne. I only went along because that's what a younger brother should do. Do be careful to state the correct facts."

Ser Myles paused. "Sorry, Your Grace. But continuing on, we have to ensure stability and having Prince Maelor tour the city will accomplish that."

"What about the threat you warned me about? The one about the man urging harm onto myself and the dragons for being abominations against the gods?" Daeron remembered.

"We've got it taken care of," Ser Myles replied.

"Are you sure about that? Because you sounded awfully concerned the last time you spoke to me about it," Daeron showed his uncertainty.

"Yes, we have men who have contained the threat," Ser Myles said.

Daeron could sense a falsity, but at the same time, he couldn't prove it. "And may I have evidence that you have this threat, this man, contained?"

"It will come in due time, Your Grace. But what's more important is to ensure that our cause remains strong and the best way to do that is to show Prince Maelor to the masses," Ryam joined back in.

Prince Daeron realized that they would continue to talk about this without end. "All right. Where do you suggest we go?"

Daeron didn't like the route they recommended, which went through some of the most densely parts of the city, as they moved from the safety of the Hightower itself and started moving along the banks of the Honeywine. The Thieves Market was too exposed despite the heavy guard Maelor had, which was why Daeron insisted on riding with his nephew once he realized the danger. Ser Myles protested, but oddly enough, Ryam agreed that uncle and nephew should remain together. _What in the Seven Hells is going through his mind?_

What made him more unnerved was how the smallfolk of the market were silent and looked at Maelor with indifference, which defeated the whole purpose of the tour. It was as if they didn't care that their potential future king was out to see them and as if his existence was unknown to them until now. There was just too much tension in the air, which might have been blamed on the situation of the war, but it was just too risky for Daeron to remain there with his nephew.

Finally, Daeron moved to the carriage where Maelor was and spoke to Ser Rickard Thorne. "Ser Rickard, I think it's best we cut this tour short."

"You sense it too, Your Grace?" Ser Rickard already knew what was on his mind.

"Something's not right here. If they really wanted to see him like Ser Myles and Seneschal Ryam explained, there would have been more cheering. Now, that's not an indication that there is danger afoot, but there is certainly risk here."

"Agreed," Ser Rickard nodded. "We should take him back to the Hightower posthaste."

"I'll get Tessarion to land and I'll cover you. Until then, can you protect him?"

"I'll do my best, Your Grace. But… can't you just take him on Tessarion then? He'll be at a risk if he remains here on the ground," Ser Rickard pointed out.

Daeron thought it through, before nodding. "Maelor, come on. We're going for a ride," he grabbed his nephew by his arms.

"Where we going, Uncle?" Maelor asked him curiously.

"We're going to ride my dragon. Would you like that?" Daeron pinched his nephew's cheek. Maelor shot him a toothless grin.

But as Daeron was about to call Tessarion to land near them, someone shouted, "The dragons caused the war! Get them!"

Suddenly, a mob comprised of the marketplace formed and surged onto the party of armed men escorting Maelor. The men of the Oldtown City Watch drew their swords and fought to stem the tide, but it was too much for them, as they were quickly overwhelmed.

As for Daeron and Ser Rickard, they both held onto Maelor as the mob was about to swarm the carriage.

"Where's Ser Myles?" Ser Rickard asked desperately, knowing that they were outnumbered.

"I don't know, and I don't know if we can hold this," Daeron was just as afraid as he was.

"Uncle, what is happening?" Maelor was confused as to what was going on.

"Nothing," Daeron rubbed his nephew's head. "It's just some men being stupid."

"Will we get hurt?" Maelor looked at him with those wide amethyst orbs.

"No, no, I promise we won't get hurt," he told him before turning to Ser Rickard as the carriage was being violent shaken. "May the Seven forgive me, but I have to save my nephew," he silently prayed before reaching out to Tessarion. _Girl, they're about to kill us! Rain fire!_

 _Get your heads down,_ he heard Tessarion say before a dragon roar echoed through the air.

"Ser Rickard, duck your head!" Daeron warned as they both crouched down, shielding Maelor with their bodies, as Tessarion dived.

"Dracarys," Daeron whispered before the Blue Queen unleashed her flames on the Thieves Market, incinerating many of the mob and even a few of the City Watch before ascending back into the air. This was the first time in a while that he was close to the flames, and he couldn't imagine what Maelor was feeling.

"Your Grace, come on," Ser Rickard urged as he checked that the coast was clear. But they had to step over various burnt corpses and avoid being crushed burning structures as they made their way through the now abandoned alleyways. "That's strange. Where did all of the people go?"

"I don't know. What's going on here?" Daeron asked himself before making sure that Maelor was close. "Just hold tightly and we'll get you back to the tower, okay?"

"Okay," Maelor circled his small arms around his uncle's neck.

They traversed more empty alleys and surprisingly deserted bridges, with no City Watch coming to them. _What is Ser Myles doing? Does he even know that we're under attack?_

Daeron and Ser Rickard saw the Hightower in the distance, mapping their way to there on foot, but as they entered another market, yet another swarm of people charged them. But this time, there were no City Watch to assist them. Running to a bridge built over the Honeywine, Ser Rickard and Daeron were back to back.

"Prince Daeron, I think you better set Prince Maelor down and draw your sword," Seri Rickard readied his blade.

"No! Maelor won't be safe!" Daeron cried out.

"If you don't right with all of your faculties, then we all die," Ser Rickard told him. "Just keep him close."

Daeron exhaled in frustration, but he saw the reason in Ser Rickard's words and set Maelor down from his arms. "I need you to do something. Please, close your eyes and stay behind us. Can you do that?" Maelor nodded. "You're a good boy. We'll get through this and we'll see mama again, okay?" His nephew smiled before sitting down against the side of the bridge and shut his eyes while pulling his legs towards him. "Now, whatever happens, do not open your eyes until I say so. It'll be over soon." He drew his sword, hands tightening on the hilt. "Good luck, Ser Rickard."

"You too, Prince Daeron," Ser Rickard managed as the first of the mob reached the two.

Daeron sliced one man across the torso before parrying another's attempted strike with a club. Still holding on, he cut across his and another man's bellies. He then got yet another by striking his forehead with his sword's pommel before decapitating him. He punched one hard on the cheek before running him through and was able to catch another by kicking him hard on the chest, causing him to fall off of the bridge and splash into the river below.

Daeron glanced back at Ser Rickard, who was faring similarly as he was. A Kingsguard and a prince of House Targaryen trained by some of the best knights in the realm were more than a match for men who didn't spend a single day in combat. And given that they were on a bridge, they could control how many could come at them from either side.

But as the bodies piled up and the river below them was slowly getting filled with fallen corpses, both Daeron and Ser Rickard were being exhausted. Their training might have saved them, but there was just too many to count. And they didn't know how long they could last.

Suddenly, the mob attacking grew wilder as Daeron could spot torches running through the throngs, causing them to go into a frenzy. Deciding to disregard the threat that came from both Daeron's and Ser Rickard's better handling with the sword, the crowd rushed them, and many had grabbed onto Daeron's own blade. He felt at least five hands latch onto it and he knew that without it, he would be at their mercy. _Must… save… Maelor._

Sensing her rider's danger, Tessarion revealed herself again and bathed the crowd in fire, buying Daeron and Ser Rickard time to regain their footing and strike back.

But out of all the things that the mob had, a man struck Ser Rickard in the head with a rock once he got close enough, throwing it so hard that blood came out of his wound. Seeing the kingsguard stunned, the mob rushed and shoved him down on the ground, grabbing his sword while beating him to death.

Alarmed, Daeron swung wildly at the crowd, using every bit of energy he had to protect his nephew. He lost count on how many were felled, but they soon grabbed his arms and were pulling him away from Maelor.

_Tessarion, burn everything!_

_What about you?_ Tessarion was worried.

_Just do it! Dracarys!_

The last thing Daeron remembered was fire flowing on the bridge and burning more of the mob. Too much ash got into his eyes and he felt his arms being released before the bridge finally collapsed from the weight of so many people and he felt the waters surround him.

Opening his eyes, he looked through the water and found Maelor being pulled to the bottom of the Honeywine. He quickly swam to his nephew, pulling him up to the surface and to the bank of the river. Remembering what he learned from Orwyle, he tried to resuscitate him.

"Come on!" Daeron cried out, but Maelor didn't respond as his eyes remained closed. Every other plea and attempt to wake him up was met with silence, causing Daeron to grow desperate. Helaena's son remained pale and he wouldn't open his amethyst orbs. "Come on!"

But after a few minutes of trying it and with tears forming in his eyes, Daeron then yelled, "Somebody help me!"

He repeated his plea for help, but no one came. Finally, he put his hands away from Maelor's torso, the realization of his nephew's death finally hitting him. He hugged his corpse, crying softly as the fires raged. There was no place for Tessarion to land, but she felt his rider's pain.

"I'm so sorry, Helaena. I'm so sorry," he kept saying as he bawled his eyes out. "I failed you."

But Daeron failed to notice that in the Citadel, Ryam and Ser Myles observed the carnage and the burning areas of the city. "The dragon caused more damage than we thought," the seneschal noted.

"Nothing we can't repair. At least it didn't get the Hightower, the Starry Sept, or this place," Ser Myles answered.

"The King's Landing plan was mostly successful, while this was only a partial one. Daeron is still alive," Ryam said.

"But since his dragon burned everything, no one here will support him. That's enough for me, since he tried to tell me what to do," Ser Myles expressed his satisfaction.

"Remember. Our goal is to weaken the dragons, however possible, and to show them what it's like to be powerless. We won't rest until the last of them die," Ryam reminded him.

"Of course. And about the coin in the Hightower's vaults…"

"It shall be put to good use in rebuilding a better and sinless city," Ryam answered.

Both continued to plan ahead while Daeron continued to mourn for his nephew, unaware of why it happened.

* * *

Helaena observed the smoke plumes that continue to rise above King's Landing, the fires that resulted from the riots of last week. She also looked upon the ruins of the Dragonpit, its dome collapsed and blackened from the fires that came from the dragons that tried to defend themselves from the mob.

Because she was in the safety of the Red Keep, she was unaware that the riots were even happening until Ser Lorent, groups of the goldcloaks, and the members of the northern guard scrambled about. Because she was treated more as a guest to Rhaenyra, she was able to ask Ser Torrhen on what was happening.

"Parts of the city have risen up in revolt against the queen," Ser Torrhen explained. "Thousands have taken up arms and are engaged in wanton burning of the city districts while many have converged on the Dragonpit."

"The Dragonpit?" Helaena became concerned, as at least some of the dragons were still there.

"Yes. I'm sorry, Your Grace, but I have to go," Ser Torrhen ran off to join the rest of the Manderly men who were joining the goldcloaks to contain the riots.

Helaena looked above and saw the shapes of Caraxes, Vermithor, and Silverwing fly towards the burning areas of the city. _I hope that they are going to just scare them, not add more fire._

As for the smallfolk girl Nettles, she couldn't see her or her dragon called Sheepstealer because she was in the advanced stages of her pregnancy, the father being Jacaerys even though he was married to Sara Snow. _Poor girl. Just like Lady Bracken._

Eventually, Rhaenyra ordered Lord Cregan and Ser Willem to bring in all available troops to restore order to the affected parts of King's Landing and to show no mercy. "Are we not to take prisoners?" Ser Willem asked in disbelief.

Rhaenyra threw down her wine goblet from the Iron Throne, smashing it into pieces. "Prisoners? Don't take any. The mob isn't taking any prisoners!" She stepped down from the Iron Throne while looking at the Royce knight and the Warden of the North in their eyes. "Put the mob down! Don't take a prisoner until you've put the mob down!"

Daemon and Baela moved to the doors of the throne room. "You heard her, my lords. No prisoners until order has been restored," Daemon said.

What followed was a bloodbath, as northmen and Valemen alike tore through the mobs and cut them down with ruthless efficiency. Against well-equipped and experienced fighters, it took less than a day for the mobs to disperse. However, upon seeing the ruins of the Dragonpit, the wounds on Syrax's skin, and the lifeless corpse of Joffrey, the last of her Velaryon brood, Rhaenyra fell into a rage and issued new orders.

"Hunt down every last one of these rats and kill them! I don't care how you do it, but you kill them!" Rhaenyra yelled.

Lord Bartimos and some of the lords at court were about to protest, but Daemon and Lord Corlys quietly shook their heads and dispelled all immediate opposition to her orders.

Helaena didn't actually witness what was going on, but she could hear the screams from the affected parts of the capital even from her room in Maegor's Holdfast. She had some idea about what happened during war, especially since men couldn't be trusted to maintain discipline during the chaos of battle. At the same time, she couldn't feel any pity for those that started the riots, since they did damage the home of the dragons in the capital.

Eventually, everything calmed down at the cost of hundreds of lives and dozens arrested after being judged as the most culpable for the riots. As retaliation for the riots, the northmen and Valemen set fire to parts of the city where the riots started and transferred many of their prisoners to the Black Cells to await judgment. More importantly, they were able to catch the one called the Shepherd and got the axe he used to kill Joffrey. But even she had to impressed with how Joffrey was able to fell many of the mob at such a young age, proving to her that the Velaryon was a dragon after all.

Among the dead besides all of the dragonkeepers and the dragons that were still chained in the Dragonpit was Ser Luthor Largent, the one who helped the Manderly men come so close to the Red Keep that they were able to take Aegon's men by surprise and the one allowed a relatively peaceful takeover with much of the defected goldcloaks. He died leading his men into combat, as he was pulled down from his armored warhorse, stabbed in the stomach, and bludgeoned to death. His corpse was so swollen and bloodied that only his size could be used to identify him. Had it not been for the northmen and Valemen flooding into the city, the goldcloaks would have been annihilated.

Once the riots had ended, Helaena called for a meeting of the small council and Lord Cregan was sent to bring her to the meeting. "Your Grace, if you will follow me, please. Your presence has been requested."

"Take me there, Lord Cregan," Helaena gestured to the Lord of Winterfell.

"How is Princess Jaehaera, Your Grace?"

"She's fine," Helaena was thankful he asked. "How is your son and daughters at Winterfell?"

"They miss their father," Cregan replied. "Once this war is done, I plan to spend many years with them."

 _So unlike Aegon, who didn't care._ "I'm sure that they will want to be their father for a long time, Lord Cregan."

"My father died when I was young, and I didn't have much time with him. My children will spend more time with their father," Cregan promised more to himself, but Helaena smiled at how devoted he was to his children.

Over the course of the last few weeks, they had more conversations on topics such as the old gods and what they wanted from their respective families. She never talked about those things with anyone, even with Aegon since she only married her brother-husband out of duty and while she loved her children, she only fulfilled what was expected of her. But as they talked, Helaena could sense that Lord Cregan glanced at her more than she did and even when she was not looking. Even as he led to the small council chamber, she caught him glancing behind him.

She didn't have a good idea of what northmen were like beyond the books, especially when they acted around women. However, seeing Lord Cregan try to look at her was so… moving for Helaena. It was the first time a man showed her that much attention, but for a long time, she tried not to care ever since Aegon didn't consider her pretty compared to the maids and her ladies-in-waiting. But like any other women, deep down she was hurt when a man she grew up with viewed with such little regard and it really made her question on whether she could find someone who appreciated her.

With Lord Cregan, not only did he look at her so much, he approached her and made her feel safe. In addition, he didn't say many jests verbally, but she saw his actions as quite… amusing. For example, he helped a maid clean the floor when a wineglass was spilled, and the maid blushed when she saw a man even try to help her. And he said, "How boring life must be here, when the men don't help in the simplest of tasks."

Unlike most of the lords and especially Aegon, Cregan was humble and he was more action-oriented than talkative. And him not saying anything while trying to steal looks at her was so… touching to her. It made her believe that she had worth after all and that she just needed to find someone who saw it. _I might have to catch him in the act, so our eyes can meet and he can't deny it,_ she thought happily.

One of Rhaenyra's first acts at the small council chamber was to appoint Ser Balon Byrch as the new Lord Commander of the City Watch, but owing to the diminished strength of the goldcloaks, some of the northmen and Valemen were posted to King's Landing and charged with maintaining the peace. Since the Valemen and northmen wouldn't answer to Ser Balon, Rhaenyra formed the Guardian Council to help ensure that the city and the crownlands as a whole would remain peaceful and secure. In this capacity, she had one of the Corbray brothers, both of the Manderly brothers, and Lord Belthasar Bolton appointed as guardians alongside Ser Balon.

But Lord Cregan questioned the inclusion of Lord Belthasar as a guardian. "Your Grace, the Bolton men need their lord in the field, and they comprise a large portion of the troops I've brought from the north."

"I'm sure that whatever gaps left behind from the absence of the Bolton men can easily be made up with the Valemen and the Reach houses that will join us," Rhaenyra told him.

"May I ask why you want Lord Bolton as a guardian?" Cregan inquired.

"Aren't his house's words 'Our Knives are Sharp?'"

"Yes, Your Grace. But those words came from a more barbarous time and when the north didn't enjoy the unity that it was able to enjoy to this day," Cregan answered.

"I have need of the methods his house is known for," Rhaenyra continued.

Cregan's eyes widened. "Your Grace, you don't mean to say—"

"Yes, Lord Stark. I will grant Lord Belthasar special authority in prosecuting the man called the Shepherd and all of his ilk, starting with the prisoners that were in the Black Cells before this started," Rhaenyra finished for him.

"Your Grace, I must protest this. Flaying has been outlawed in the north for two thousand years and—"

"But we're not in the North, are we, Lord Stark? As Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, I am temporarily reinstituting flaying as a legitimate method for examination and execution. Given his house's history with the practice, Lord Belthasar will oversee all examinations and be appointed as my Queen's Justice until this war has been concluded," she stated.

"Your Grace, I must agree with Lord Stark on this," Lord Bartimos joined in. "The houses fighting for us will not look upon this practice favorably, given how flaying is looked upon throughout Westeros. Furthermore—"

Rhaenyra slammed her hand on the table. "These bastards killed my son, my son!" The small council was stunned into silence at her outburst. "I've lost too much already because my own family turned on me, and you're telling me to be lenient on those that conducted rebellion against me, despite me trying to bring back normality to them?"

"Your Grace, we didn't imply—"

"Quiet!" Rhaenyra was not in the mood to listen to anymore. "I remind you all that we are living in difficult times, and as such, these times call for measures that must be taken to ensure that we win. If we don't, all of our sacrifices will mean nothing. But if you're still unsure of my decisions, I ask you all to walk to the parts of the city that have been put on fire and smell the scent of burnt flesh. That is what awaits us all if we fail."

The small council remained hushed, with Helaena startled at how much fury her half-sister displayed at that moment.

"We currently have ninety-nine men in the Black Cells at the moment, all of whom deemed to have varying degrees of culpability in inciting the riots," Daemon spoke up. "Her Grace and Lord Hand Corlys will oversee all of the trials, with the Guardian Council taking their place should either one be unable to." No one protested. "Lord Cregan and Lord Bartimos, please remain. The rest are dismissed." Helaena was about leave with the rest of the small council members before he stopped her. "Helaena, please stay. I think it's time you hear what will happen."

Surprised, she sat down, with Cregan and Bartimos Celtigar looking at Rhaenyra and Daemon.

"First of all, Lord Cregan, you have done us all a good service and your troops have helped in restoring order to the city, but don't ever disagree with us in public again," Daemon started.

"Prince Daemon, giving Lord Belthasar and the rest of the Bolton brood a taste of what they were forbidden to partake is a bad idea. If you allow this, who knows what they might pursue next?"

"You mean how they might against you?" Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes at Cregan. "From what I understand, the Boltons are a northern house and therefore, how you control them is your problem, not mine. But as I said before, I have need of the Bolton practices."

"Your Grace, I ask you to not do this. If you unleash the Boltons on the guilty and the rest of the population, you won't be able to control their bloodlust. There is a reason why the Red Kings were so hard to subjugate thousands of years ago," Cregan beseeched.

"And I'm sure that given your abilities, they will remain in control. And before you say anymore," Rhaenyra stopped him just as he opened his mouth. "Let me remind you that I am perfectly willing to have the betrothal between my son Viserys and your daughter Sarra go towards its natural conclusion, as one of many rewards that will come your way once this war is over. But considering that this wasn't announced to the realm yet, it can be rescinded should you try my patience any further. Do we understand each other?"

Cregan gulped before nodding. As for Lord Bartimos and Helaena, they were simply confused as to what was just discussed. "May I ask on what you are referring to, Your Grace?" the Lord of Claw Isle inquired.

"Once Viserys has been recovered safely, I will announce the betrothal between him and Sarra Stark in order to bind our houses together and to reward the Warden of the North. It's been too long since the North was involved in the affairs of the south and this betrothal will ensure their continued participation," Rhaenyra answered him. "Which brings me to you, Lord Bartimos. You've served me well and there might be a great reward coming your way, but question me in public again, I might change my mind. Understand?"

Bartimos Celtigar bobbed his head slowly, not wanting to risk his queen's offer on repaying him for his loyalty even though he didn't know what awaited him.

"As we're on the topic of Viserys, how far are we on rescuing him?" Daemon asked Cregan.

"We have selected a few men from White Harbour who are capable of carrying out the mission, with their qualifications including significant time spent in the Free Cities and being able to blend in crowds," Cregan answered. "Once Lady Mysaria's little birds confirm Viserys' location, we'll send the men in and begin the rescue."

"Good. The sooner he comes back, the better," Daemon nodded.

"Wait. You're going to rescue Prince Viserys, from the Triarchy?" Helaena asked.

"The longer he remains a captive, the more likely that the enemy will use him as a bargaining chip against us. That's something we cannot allow to happen," the Warden of the North answered.

"And without him, you cannot have the betrothal," Helaena added.

"Yes," Cregan admitted. "Selfish as that might sound, we need as many heirs in House Targaryen as we can obtain, as they will be important in restoring stability to the realm once this war is done. Without an abundance of heirs, the Seven Kingdoms as we know it will be dangerously vulnerable. We have the Princes Aegon and Viserys, and the Princesses Jaehaera, Baela, Rhaena, and Visenya alive. With the death of the Velaryon sons born of Queen Rhaenyra's womb, we must ensure that our position is secure."

"Our position?" Helaena raised an eyebrow to Cregan.

"I am not privy as to what problems you have with Her Grace and Prince Daemon, but all of you come from Aegon the Conqueror. Whatever way this war ends, there must be a united House Targaryen because your ancestor made the choice to make Westeros into one land. Without the dragons working together, the violence shall never cease, and we risk going back to the evil days prior to the Conquest," Cregan explained.

Helaena was struck by right Cregan sounded. What was more, there was no malice spoken her way, which was unexpected of the young man who was the head of House Stark. He had every reason to treat her badly, but instead, he was more decent to her than Aegon ever was. And his words spoken just now brought her back to when Cregan talked about family. _Family is really that important to him,_ Helaena thought with admiration.

"Lord Cregan speaks true," Daemon added. "And so, our first goal after the war is done is to repair the damage our family has suffered."

Helaena looked at each person in the chamber, sighing after thinking of how everyone there had fought against her but were more than willing to include her. "Okay," she nodded her agreement.

"Lord Bartimos, you're excused. And so are you, Lord Stark. I must attend to my dragon," Rhaenyra stood up before looking at Helaena once more. "I would like your presence, Helaena, if you are able to."

Helaena was more surprised that she would ask such a thing, but given her more than deserved treatment to her, she obliged, but she glanced at Lord Cregan. "Can Lord Stark accompany me?" she suddenly asked.

Rhaenyra and Daemon were astonished at her request, but she nodded her consent and thus, Helaena followed the pair outside as they walked to the godswood, with Cregan at her side.

"I must say that unlike most of the lords I've met, you stay true to your words," Helaena noted to the Warden of the North. "That's amazing, considering that hypocrisy and the ability to survive in court go together."

"You've not been in the north then, Your Grace," Cregan replied. "Anyone who lies constantly will not be accepted among the northern houses, and constant bickering is looked down upon because we do not have the luxury to argue in the cold."

"That sounds… refreshing," Helaena admitted. "I've been around too many liars and I long for a time where I can be honest to myself and not suffer the consequences."

"I am pretty sure that time will come, Your Grace. After all, the bad things in our lives will not last forever," Cregan said empathetically.

Helaena glanced at Lord Stark once more, moved by his words. "Lord Stark, may I call you Cregan?"

"You can," Cregan nodded.

"Well, Cregan, I think it's only proper that you call me Helaena. After all, it wouldn't be right if only one of us used our first names," she shrugged.

Cregan thought this through, wary of Rhaenyra and Daemon listening. "Very well… Helaena."

She smiled before seeing that the godswood was guarded heavily by sentries. Upon entering, she saw Syrax resting, with visible cuts on her skin and even some of scales missing from the impact of some stones as she flew through the opening of the Dragonpit's dome.

Rhaenyra walked up and rubbed the snout of her dragon, with Daemon close by. But the more she touched it, the more slumped she looked. Then, Helaena saw tears drop from her eyes, which increased with each passing moment. Daemon moved to hold her, but she collapsed to the ground, unable to hold back the bawling that was contained until that point.

Helaena knew what those tears, as those were the tears she shed when she saw Jaehaerys die. While before she wished the same to happen to Rhaenyra and imagined how satisfied she would be when she understood her pain, all she felt at that moment was compassion. With Daemon not lying to her about not ordering Jaehaerys' death, Rhaenyra treating her well, and Cregan making her feel assured, she couldn't find it in her heart to be pleased at what Rhaenyra was feeling. _No matter who the father was, Joffrey's dragon side won out in the end and he died like one._

Without thinking, Helaena stepped to where Rhaenyra was, with Syrax weary of her. But sensing no ill-intention, she allowed Helaena to get close to Rhaenyra, where she got on her knees and slowly placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I know there's nothing I can't say for when a child dies before the mother, but… we're family and I am here," Helaena told her.

Rhaenyra quickly wrapped her arms around Helaena, continuing to cry as she moved from Daemon's to her own. Taking a moment to process her embrace, she returned it while patting her back softly and bringing her head closer against her neck. She shared a glance with Daemon, who showed his thankfulness through his sad smile, and then at Cregan, whose eyes softened but was unable to join in the embrace since he wasn't family. _Soon he will be, if Viserys marries Sarra Stark._

As she comforted her older half-sister, she began to think of how Cregan could fit in their family. She wondered what would have happened if she had met the Lord of Winterfell sooner and if her life would've changed, only to brush aside those thoughts as she realized that everything happened for a reason. It was only under those circumstances that she met Lord Stark, and it was only after he survived his obstacles that he became the man that stood in front of her.

 _Grant me more time with Cregan. Please allow me some comfort and happiness,_ she prayed to the gods above, whoever they may be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, did Daeron show how much of a dragon he was when trying to save Maelor, although it was sadly in vain. And the manner of Maelor's death strongly points to sabotage, for how else does one explain only one Kingsguard protecting a Targaryen prince? And the conspiracy is coming to light. 
> 
> And Helaena is starting to see Rhaenyra was just as broken as her, leading to them becoming sisters again. Cregan better watch his words, or he'll lose the betrothal, and who knows what kind of things Lord Belthasar has in mind? 
> 
> Till next time. 


	15. Battle in the northern Reach

Roderick Dustin and Ser Corwyn Corbray looked over the maps alongside the captains from Longtable, Bitterbridge, Ashford, Tumbleton, and Ser Garibald Grey. Ser Garibald had recently arrived from the riverlands to bring what rivermen could be spared after the region had seen relative inaction as the war raged everywhere else. With the Tullys and Blackwoods doing well in keeping the peace alongside the few thousand northmen left by Cregan Stark, any men that could be sent south had come.

Lord Dustin and Ser Corbray had separately interacted with Ser Garibald once, both of them meeting him while they were passing through the riverlands. However, he had done well at the Gods Eye and was seen as a competent leader of troops, so the commander of the so-called "Winter Wolves" and the spare to Heart's Home had welcomed his presence.

Another good addition to their army were the bowmen under Robb Rivers, a bastard of Raventree Hall. Having already achieved merit in the riverlands, the men of House Blackwood were given important positions in the army.

As for the men of House Merryweather and House Caswell, the premature departure of their lords left their respective castles under the regency of the lady mothers of their young heirs. Following the recommendations sent from King's Landing, the lady regents and their captains emptied all of their gold and food from their castles and moved north, staying alert from any threat from the "green" dragons that could strike from the air. Fortunately, many were able to arrive at Tumbleton in good order, with the Ladies Caswell and Merryweather being sent to the capital with the future lords for their safety.

Soon afterwards, Lord Ashford arrived with who and what he could take with him, as Aemond refused to respect his neutrality and thus fled before Vhagar could burn him. With the addition of the Ashford men, the men of the Reach that had declared for Rhaenyra now numbered eight thousand. This greatly reinforced the army under Lord Dustin's and Ser Corwyn's command, which included the two thousand men of the "Winter Wolves" in addition to the five thousand given by Cregan Stark and the six thousand Valemen.

Bolstering their strength were Sers Hugh and Ulf, both of whom were publicly humiliated by Daemon and Cregan after they made unwise comments towards Rhaenyra, Baela, and the Lady Nettles. Even though all in the tent knew that the dragons Vermithor and Silverwing would be powerful tools against their coming foes, all were not looking forward to working with dragon riders of low birth and who before now damaged their chances of moving upwards.

Most importantly, Hugh and Ulf came into the tent and expected all to listen to them, as they thought their achievements in bonding with dragons allowed them a say in making battle decisions. However, Lord Dustin was quick to tell them otherwise.

"Since when did boys become allowed to mix themselves with men?" Roderick Dustin made clear his disdain for the two knights who clearly knew nothing of strategy.

"We have orders from the Queen and Prince Consort themselves to fight alongside you against the usurper army coming this way," Ser Hugh puffed his chest out.

"Fight alongside us, but not command with us," Ser Corwyn corrected. "How about you stay by your dragons and allow the grown-ups to make the difficult plans?"

Ser Ulf blinked in anger. "Who the fuck are you to tell us to stand by our dragons? In case you've noticed, we have dragons and you're just the spare to a lord."

"More than what you can say for yourself, boy," Ser Corwyn countered. "You're just a bastard of low birth and not even all of the riches in the world can change that fact."

"You dare?" Ser Ulf gritted his teeth as he was about to draw his sword, which didn't impress Ser Corwyn, who looked very bored and merely showed his house's Valyrian steel longsword, Lady Forlorn.

"I would be very careful with how you behave yourself, boy," Lord Dustin came to Ser Corwyn's side. "Lord Stark and Prince Daemon gave you a beating and Her Grace is still not pleased with you. If you misbehave before us, you might suffer more consequences."

"Is that a threat?" Hugh took a step forward, attempting to be menacing by trying to show his ire through his eyes. "You should know, I ride the dragon of Jaehaerys the Conciliator. Should I act how did with Rogar Baratheon?"

Lord Dustin scoffed. "If that's the only threat that you have, you are beginning to tire me. It seems that without your dragons, you are nothing, just like before this war started. And if we have to make comparisons, you two are fish compared to Her Grace and Prince Daemon."

"We suggest that if you want to be in this tent, shut up and let the men do the talking," Robb Rivers added.

"Oh, we're supposed to listen to you, a bastard like ourselves?" Ulf sneered, only for Lord Dustin to headbutt him and making him fall to the ground. Despite being old, he was far from harmless.

"Ser Robb distinguished himself well at the Gods Eye, while you two were sitting on your asses and still being the green boys that you are now. You have no right to speak to him as if you were equals," Lord Dustin rubbed his forehead.

"So, we'll see say this once more. You are not here to command us. We will accept your services, but you will follow our instructions, as Her Grace didn't say anything about what exactly you can do," Ser Corwyn said. "If you don't like this arrangement, I suggest you go back to King's Landing. But you'll also have to explain to the queen why you returned and why you didn't follow her orders. Which will you pick?"

Ulf and Hugh were steaming, but seeing the futility in arguing further, they begrudgingly bobbed their heads before moving to the table where the maps are.

"Right, so what we know so far is that Criston Cole is leading an army made up of mostly Lannister men and those sworn to the Hightowers, alongside a contingent from House Tyrell and House Fossoway. We should expect to be outnumbered, with two or three of their men for every one of ours," Lord Dustin began.

"What's more, they will have mounted knights and other cavalry with them, more than what we have now," Ser Corwyn said. "If we attempt to fight them on open ground, our flanks will be vulnerable from heavy charges."

"So, our first task is to negate their advantage in cavalry. We can use pikes and the bowmen under Robb Rivers to take them down," Ser Garibald offered.

"They'll likely expect that and given Ser Criston's more aggressive tendencies, he's not going to want to waste any more time than necessary to deal with us," Lord Dustin replied.

"How much time do we have before Ser Criston and his army will arrive at Tumbleton up from the rose road?" Robb Rivers asked.

"With an army of that size, I would give them ten days. But Ser Criston will not allow his troops to rest because he wants to defeat us as soon as possible," Lord Dustin repeated.

"So maybe five days, give or take," Ser Corwyn concluded. "That's just enough time to gather our defenses and wait for him to come."

"My lords, I would like to point out that the danger from the air remains, since either Daeron or Aemond will come from the sky to burn us," one of the Caswell captains stated.

"Maybe that's why Her Grace sent Sers Ulf and Hugh for that possibility," Ser Garibald looked at the two dragonseeds. "I would suggest that they fly above the fray and rain fire on the enemy while we attempt to contain them at the town."

"Tumbleton itself does not have the proper defenses we need to hold off Ser Criston and his troops. But… we can try to dig ditches and create streams using the Mander," Lord Dustin glided his hand over the river. "That can create enough of a marsh where they won't be able to bring their horses to bear on us."

"That can work," Ser Garibald nodded. "I live very close to the Red Fork and I saw how muddy the ground can be and how the shores made horses ineffective in battle."

"Given the time and numbers that we have, we can create a system of ditches and small streams sufficient enough to counter their knights," Ser Corwyn thought aloud. "We can also form into solid squares to provide as much protection from their charges should they attempt to do them anyway."

"Not to mention, we can rain down arrows on them once they start to slow down in the mud," Robb Rivers added.

"My lords, what would happen if Daeron or Aemond show up during the battle? I might feel more at ease with Vermithor and Silverwing flying above us, but if I had to choose between them or the two riders with us, I'd have to place my wager on the former," one of the Merryweather captains admitted.

"Lady Mysaria said that Daeron was still in Oldtown but given how he burned the city to protect his nephew, he might not be there for long and might join. At the same time, that is still an unconfirmed report and therefore cannot be taken into account," Lord Dustin explained.

"And Aemond just married Floris Baratheon and recent reports still place him at Storm's End, where he's undoubtedly devoting 'some' attention to his new layd wife," Ser Corwyn made light of the situation, causing some chuckles at how Aemond "One-Eyed" could be even capable of affection.

"So for now, we don't have to worry about Daeron or Aemond coming to burn us. But if they do, Sers Ulf and Hugh can distract them while we move to withdraw. Best not suffer casualties against dragons," Lord Dustin tapped on the map. "In the meantime, they can damage Ser Criston's troops with dragonfire and maybe make the battle not even happen."

The captains nodded their heads in agreement, with Sers Ulf and Hugh still stewing over not being given the respect that they think was due to them.

"Our goal at Tumbleton is to cause as much damage to Ser Criston's troops as possible. Given that he's the best commander serving the usurpers right now, any damage that he sustains will negatively affect him. He's a disgrace to the white cloak and thus breaking his army here will neutralize him as a threat," Ser Corwyn spat into the ground, earning roars of approval from the captains.

"If any of us manage to sight Ser Criston on the field, do not kill him. Capture him if possible, as he'll be more valuable alive," Lord Dustin ordered. "Her Grace will decide whether to use him for ransom or punish him as a traitor, although all of us can agree that we prefer the latter." Sers Corwyn, Garibald, and Robb Rivers and the other captains grinned.

"You have your orders, men. See to it that they're followed," Ser Corwyn prompted everyone to leave, but he, Lord Dustin, Ser Garibald, and Robb Rivers stood in the way of Sers Ulf and Hugh.

"What?" Hugh grew impatient.

"I really do hope that the both of you are more than your bastard status," Robb Rivers gave his honest thoughts. "Do well here, and Her Grace might forgive you for what happened at court. If the gods are willing, she might reward you."

"Why the fuck would you tell us this?" Ulf spat.

"He's trying to help you, boy," Lord Dustin crossed his arms. "You best take his advice, because look where he is now. He's definitely going to have a better station than he had before for his services and that can happen to you too, if you follow our orders. Do you understand?"

"Just don't be in our ways," Hugh pushed past the elderly men while Ulf took another moment to give nasty looks to each of them before following his companion out of the tent.

"I have a feeling that they're not going to perform to the best of the abilities, my lords," Ser Garibald noted.

"If that happens, we can just inform Her Grace and she'll take care of it for us. Only a dragon can kill another dragon," Ser Corwyn simply said.

"What our concern should be is that the right dragon sits on the throne and that is the Queen. If we defeat Ser Criston, we'll be one step closely to winning this war," Robb Rivers assessed.

"Aye, we shall," Lord Dustin patted the Blackwood bowmen on the shoulder. "Now, let us prepare. We have a battle ahead of us."

"Shields up! Take cover!" Ser Corwyn shouted as the square he personally commanded received incoming volleys of arrows and crossbow bolts. The missile troops of their enemies outnumbered and were of better quality than their own, even though the ones led by Robb Rivers were of comparable quality. After their own bowmen were forced to withdraw, the enemy were able to advance and got within striking distance for their own archers. Fortunately, they were able to avoid major casualties since they were able to get into formation fast enough.

Lord Dustin and Ser Corwyn oversaw the troops dig the ditches and redirect the water streams of the Mander in order to counter the heavier cavalry of Ser Criston's army. It astonished them how much could be done in the course of five days and with enough motivation. By the time the enemy army came into sight, the ground was muddy while they themselves had established good positions in Tumbleton and in the town's immediate surroundings.

After the volleys ceased, the enemy foot marched forward and attempted to attack their own infantry. _Looks like Ser Criston recognized the danger,_ Lord Dustin thought. But their pace slowed considerably once they reached the mud, with the Lannister and Reachmen armor weighing them down. What's more, their struggle to maintain their speed made them fall out of formation.

"Ser Robb! Reorient your archers and let loose on them! The rest of us will advance on the enemy!" Lord Dustin ordered.

"My lord!" Robb Rivers complied as he ran off to relay his orders.

"Lower pikes!" Ser Corwyn yelled out as their infantry prepared to impale their foes.

As the distance between their troops and the enemy's closed, the Lannister and Reach bannermen sped up, using some extra energy in order to gain the momentum needed to adequately strike against the infantry squares. However, the pikes thrusted forward, preempting their collision with their shields and thus blunting the charge. Many of the "green" troops fell, while the rest hesitated after seeing their comrades get taken down.

Lord Dustin and Ser Corwyn observed as their troops held firm and held off the first wave. The combination of the mud and their display of determination caused the enemy to turn around and return to their own lines. But sooner than they expected, large force of mounted knights charged through the field, almost ignoring those who attacked in the first wave. Some of the Lannister and Reach footmen were trampled to death by the charging horses, but most were able to return to their lines in good order.

"Tighten formation! This is it!" Ser Corwyn cried out. Their troops clustered closer together while raising their pikes slightly upwards.

The bog that they created caused some of the Lannister and Reach knights to fall off of their horses. Unfortunately, a majority were able to push past the mud.

"Steady!" Lord Dustin screamed at the top of his lungs as the first of the heavy horse collided with their infantry squares.

The force gained from a knight charging on horseback was more than enough to push through several rows of men before it inevitably lost energy. But to their chagrin, the "black" infantry held firm and held their pikes tight as their sharp heads struck man and beast alike. Many knights fell off their mounts when they couldn't push past through most of the line and were left at the mercy of the pikes.

"Push them back!" Ser Corwyn ordered as the pikemen slowly marched forward, their pikes aimed at stabbing and killing any man who was stuck and struggling in the bog. The pike heads were designed to pierce through the gaps in the armor segments, making it that easier to kill those in full metal plates and thus increasing the chances of inflicting high casualities.

At the same time, some of the Lannister and Reachmen knights managed to push through and made it to the rearguard of the "black" army. All they had to do now was to fight the reserves personally commanded by Lord Dustin, Ser Corwyn, and Ser Garibald, which included the "Winter Wolves."

"Take them down!" Lord Dustin charged forth, striking a horse's head with his mace and causing it to fall on the side. Bringing his mace up, he swung downwards and caved the knight's helm in.

The rest of the reserves followed suit, inspired by the example of Lord Dustin. Ser Corwyn borrowed an axe and cut off a Lannister knight's leg off, forcing him to the ground and finishing him off with a swing to his torso, crushing his breastplate. Ser Garibald made use a pike and struck a knight off of his horse, with some of his men piling themselves on him and stabbing him in the exposed parts of his armor.

One knight managed to survive being taken off of his horse and charged towards Lord Dustin, thinking that his age made him weak. But he was proved dead wrong, as the leader of the "Winter Wolves" swung his mace, knocking his sword out of his hand. He spun around and struck him in the waist, causing him to fall over and allowing him to strike at his skull.

Ser Corwyn unsheathed Lady Forlorn and took on two knights of House Tyrell. He cut across one's leg, causing him to scream out in pain, while the other was struck in the head with Lady Forlorn's pommel and stunned. Ser Corwyn stomped on that one's throat, crushing it, while thrusting his Valyrian steel sword through the first one's exposed neck.

By now, most of the knights that had managed to charge past the infantry squares had either been killed or taken captive. However, they weren't done. In the distance, horns blared as Lord Dustin, Ser Corwyn, Ser Garibald, and Robb Rivers looked to see more men-at-arms advancing on their positions, trying to maneuver their way through the corpses of both man and horse. Despite the mud on his armor, all could recognize the white cloak tied to his shoulders.

"It's Ser Criston. He's trying to save what he can of his army and maybe get back his momentum," Ser Corwyn observed.

"It's probably his rearguard. There's less than a thousand of them coming with him," Ser Robb pointed with his finger.

"It's an act of desperation. His first two waves have failed, but I'm curious as to why the other troops are holding back," Lord Dustin tried to see more clearly.

Indeed, despite the losses that they suffered, there were still a good number of Lannister and Reachmen cavalry and men-at-arms standing by. _Maybe they are hesitant to attack us, or they don't like Ser Criston. Either way, he's trying to make them attack by leading by example._

But then, a very unexpected thing happened. The rest of the enemy army turned around and withdrew from the field, leaving Ser Criston to charge alone with his rearguard.

Not wanting to question their good luck, the commanders seized their chance. "Men, forward!" Lord Dustin shouted as they left their positions and took a quick pace towards the rogue kingsguard. Naturally, Lord Dustin and the "Winter Wolves" took the lead.

Pushing their way through the mud, Lord Dustin and his northmen pushed against Ser Criston's men. Having seen two waves falter in front of their eyes, the remaining men were hesitant to continue. Against more motivated and more eager foes, it would only be a matter of time before they too fled.

Hitting his way through the rearguard, with a mace strike on the head there and mace swing on a leg on another, Lord Dustin finally came face-to-face with the Ser Criston, the one who gave the kingsguard a bad name.

"Lord Commander, at last we meet!" Lord Dustin smiled.

Ser Criston stabbed a northman in the chest before noticing the Lord of Barrowton. "Your time is past, old man! You are not long for this world!"

"Are you sure you're not talking about yourself? You will go where all traitors go," Lord Dustin readied his mace.

"Do you not know death when you see it, old man? This is my hour!" Ser Criston raised his sword as he charged on horseback towards him.

Ducking under his sword, Lord Dustin acted quickly by pushing against Ser Criston's horse with his shield, causing him to lose balance in the mud and fall off. But he quickly recovered and stood in his stance, ready to do battle with the old Lord of Barrowton.

No more words were exchanged as Lord Dustin and the Lord Commander of the "green" Kingsguard traded blows with their weapons. Criston attempted to stab Lord Dustin, only for him to avoid it with his shield and try to strike him in the leg with his mace. However, the Cole knight was quick and avoided getting his leg crushed by jumping out of the way.

Ser Criston and Lord Dustin remained calm, both being warriors with years of experience under their belts. But alas, being young had its uses and it allowed Ser Criston to remain focus while the years were slowly getting to the old lord. Quickly and suddenly, the Cole knight swung upwards and slammed his sword down hard on Lord Dustin's shield, similar to the effect of a hammer striking on the anvil. The force was so great that Lord Dustin fell to the ground, using his shield to protect him as Criston kept pounding on the shield.

Roderick then attempted to strike back with his mace, but this was a move that the kingsguard expected, allowing him to slightly adjust his sword and swing to the wrist, cutting off of his hand. The Lord of Barrowton cried out in pain while Criston delivered by the blow by kicking aside his shield arm and stabbing him in the belly.

But just as he did, he was struck in the head with someone's helm, dazing him just long enough for some of the "Winter Wolves" to grab him, disarm him, and tie him up while some others tended to their lord.

A younger man might have had a chance to survive his wounds, but Lord Dustin was past his prime and despite still being deadly, his body was close to giving up on him as he bled profusely from his belly wound.

Ser Corwyn, Ser Garibald, and Ser Robb pushed through the men and knelt before the dying lord.

"Did we win?" Lord Dustin asked weakly.

"We have. Ser Criston is in our custody," Ser Corwyn held his hand.

"Ser Corwyn, please see to it personally that Ser Criston makes it to King's Landing in chains. I don't think I'll be able to savor such a sight after all."

"I will, my lord," Ser Corwyn tried to comfort his comrade.

Lord Dustin felt himself becoming weaker. "I know… go… to the gods… please… let… them… know… how… I… lived." And his vision blackened, finally ending the long life of Lord Roderick Dustin.

The members of the Winter Wolves said silent prayers to the old gods while Ser Corwyn and Ser Garibald prayed to the Seven.

The rest of the day was spent burying the dead and escorting the prisoners including Ser Criston under heavy guard. After the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard made some disrespectful remarks on Lord Dustin, Ser Corwyn had him gagged as he personally placed him in a cart, tied up and stripped of his armor. He also took off his white cloak and rolled it up in his sack, wanting Rhaenyra to decide what to do with it.

As for Ser Garibald and Ser Robb, they were left to oversee that the remains of the Tumbleton battle was cleaned up. Suddenly, the forms of Vermithor and Silverwing descended and landed in front of them, with Hugh and Ulf still on their backs.

"Where the fuck where you two? You could've helped," Ser Garibald said in anger.

"We were busy chasing after those that retreated. Best not allow them to rejoin the fight," Ulf shrugged.

"That's something you would do, going after men with their backs turned," Ser Robb scoffed.

"Where are Lord Dustin and Ser Corwyn?" Hugh asked.

"Lord Dustin has been killed in combat and Ser Corwyn is on his way back to King's Landing with Ser Criston Cole and some other prisoners," Ser Garibald crossed his arms.

"Ah, one is dead and another not here. Shame, I would have liked to show them what our thoughts were after their display of disrespect to us," Hugh gave a sick grin.

"What are you talking about?" Ser Robb blinked in confusion.

"Because you're a bastard like us, we'll give you a head start while we wreak our revenge against those that wronged us," Ulf stated cryptically before Vermithor and Silverwing took off in the air and flew towards Tumbleton. They shocked Ser Robb, Ser Garibald, and the rest by unleashing dragonfire on the town.

"WHAT?!" Ser Garibald cried out.

"They've betrayed us! Everyone, run for your lives!" Ser Robb urged the troops, knowing that they stood no chance against dragonfire.

Robb Rivers and Ser Garibald Grey were among the fortunate few that managed to escape the carnage as Tumbleton and the surrounding areas burned. What was for sure, the situation of the war had changed, for the worst.

"We have to go back to King's Landing with all haste and let them know that Ulf and Hugh have betrayed us," Ser Garibald recommended.

"Aye," Ser Robb agreed. "Let's move!" The knights and the few galloped northwards up the rose road as fast as possible, leaving behind two dragons now on the loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The battle was based on the Battle of the Golden Spurs (1302). Like in canon, Ser Criston Cole suffers a major defeat and the dragonseeds betray the "black" cause, but unlike in canon, Criston will suffer a fate more befitting of a man like himself. As for the dragonseeds... may the gods protect them for whatever punishment awaits them for traitors.


	16. The Truth Comes Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all! How you all doing? Been calm for me this past week. 
> 
> And this was a little difficult for me to write, for I had to border on "Nightmare Fuel" territory. But here is the next chapter

In the dark recesses of the Red Keep, several prisoners were being subjected to the Bolton flaying, as they proved uncooperative in answering his inquiries. But they were never tortured before, so they were soon screaming as pieces of their skin and body parts were cut off.

Overseeing it all was Belthasar Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort, member of the Guardian Council to ensure peace in the crownlands, and appointed Queen's Justice. With the reinstitution of flaying by order of Rhaenyra and her granting him much leeway, he wasn't going to waste his opportunity and thus became very diligent in seeking out the truth behind the riots. _I'd be the same way if I had lost my son to these rats._

The first and obvious of the condemned was the man called the Shepherd, the one who started the riots and killed Joffrey Velaryon. Some of his men were attending to the other prisoners, but he was going to take charge in interrogating the Shepherd himself.

"Who started the riots?" Belthasar began as he circled around the Shepherd, tied to a X-shaped cross.

"I did," the Shepherd answered, but that got him a piece of his hand peeled off forcefully and he screamed.

"I don't believe you, old man. You are just an ignorant fool with grand delusions, not capable of accomplishing something this serious. Who started the riots?" Belthasar threw the skin away.

"I did," the Shepherd repeated, which got another piece of skin cut away from him.

However, Lord Bolton was careful not to kill him, as Rhaenyra wanted the man who killed her son alive, to be publicly executed. As the Queen's Justice, he would be responsible for carrying out the death sentence, but he was going to enjoy every moment of the Shepherd's torment before his day came.

The interrogation of the Shepherd was carried over a course of ten days, by which the old man became a sluggish, stammering corpse. Other men deemed responsible for the riots had also ended up in the same manner, as flaying took their minds past the limit of what they could endure. _Weak men, these wretches,_ Belthasar thought in disgust. _Why start a fight that you can't even win?_

After ten days, Lord Bolton was summoned to the small council chamber. Bowing to Rhaenyra, he submitted his report, which was passed around to the rest of the members. Cregan, Rhaenys, Helaena, Corlys Velaryon, and Bartimos Celtigar were among those that gulped, knowing how Lord Bolton got his information. He gave his Lord Paramount a look of smugness. _You might be the Warden of the North, but I am finally doing what your family took away from mine. And you can't stop it._

"Well, Lord Belthasar? Did you find out who is responsible for the riots?" Rhaenyra asked with some impatience.

"Your Grace, after some investigation into the matter, I've concluded that the Shepherd is not the main instigator of the riots. In fact, he might have been the front, as a fanatic like himself is not capable of organizing something as widespread and as damaging as the storming of the dragonpit and causing so much damage to the city," Lord Bolton told her.

"If not him, then who did?" Daemon put down Lord Bolton's report.

"Your Grace, I have some suspicions on who might be behind this tragedy. It's very possible that this riot was organized by your enemies, chiefly those who serve your brother, the usurper. Only they would have the motive and the means to arrange the riots in the hopes of damaging your standing among the population," Lord Bolton said.

"Do you have any evidence supporting that?" Lady Mysaria inquired.

"I don't, my lady," Lord Bolton admitted. "But considering how much damage they have done to our greatest assets and how they seemed crazed in trying to kill Her Grace and the family, I can't find think of anyone else that wants to hurt our queen."

"What do you propose then, Lord Belthasar?" Lord Corlys asked.

"We might need to expand the number of people who might have had some involvement in the riots, including all of those we have in the Black Cells who also served the usurper. I suggest that we treat all prisoners who fought for Aegon and Aemond as suspects, for they might know the truth."

"And who do you suggest we question first?"

"There's only one person in my mind who can shed some light into the riots, and that's Archmaester Orwyle."

"He's no archmaester anymore. That honor belongs to Gerardys alone," Rhaenyra corrected him.

"My apologies, Your Grace," Lord Bolton answered. "The reason why I think that we should question Orwyle is because he is the only one left that was here in King's Landing and served Aegon's interests. Considering how much damage this city suffered from the riots, it's only logical that we seek answers from him."

The council glanced at each other, with Rhaenyra and Daemon whispering. "All right," Daemon nodded. "He's a prisoner. So, question him. However, you will do so while cooperating with Lady Mysaria, since Orwyle will not be swayed by physical coercion alone. Also, because he is partly responsible for this mess, you will question him in the presence of the Queen, myself, Helaena, Lord Stark, and the rest of the council. Will there be a problem with that?"

Belthasar rubbed his chin. _So, they want to watch me question him, and thus flay him._ "There will no problem, Your Grace."

"Good. You can begin his questioning in the throne room, but it will be a private session," Rhaenyra ordered him. "Do what you have to, Lord Bolton."

"As you wish," Lord Bolton bowed.

Setting up the X-shaped cross in the middle of the throne room, two guards dragged a chained Orwyle there, with Rhaenyra watching from the Iron Throne. The guards tied him up to the cross and stepped back while Belthasar readied his knife and Lady Mysaria circled the former maester, with her hands behind her back.

"What is this? Why am I like this?" Orwyle showed his shock at being tied like that.

"Quiet!" Belthasar hissed. "You do not speak unless you have an answer to our questions. You understand?"

"A northern barbarian. Didn't you could survive this far south," but Orwyle's poor attempt at a jest was met with a punch to the belly, forcing the wind out of him.

"Let's begin," Lady Mysaria told Lord Bolton. "How long have you been in this city, Orwyle?"

"No more than three years. I'm sorry, who are you?" Orwyle asked.

"You do not ask the questions, but how rude of me. I am Mysaria, mistress of whisperers to Her Grace the Queen," the Lysene responded.

"Ah, Daemon's whore." That got him another blow from Lord Bolton, this time a kick to his balls. He groaned in pain, but he was unable to double over as his arms and legs were tied.

"Are maesters always this rude?"

"Being a prisoner for the length of time that I was can do many things to one's mind, and I am no exception," Orwyle spoke.

"But before you were more… agreeable, did you have connections with people throughout this city, people of influence who know how to organize many of the smallfolk?" Lord Bolton asked.

"Sure, I did. As Archmaester, I had to be familiar with who was in charge of this city besides the royal family."

"And those would include local leaders, men who could organize a throng given enough direction and influence?" Mysaria pressed.

"Yes," Orwyle said slowly, but he was not following their line of thought.

"And those men would consider themselves devoted to the Faith of the Seven, correct?" Lord Bolton inquired.

"It's impossible to be part of the community in this city without worshipping the Seven, something a northern barbarian like yourself would not understand," but Orwyle was punched hard in the face by Belthasar, so hard that blood came out of his mouth.

"Would you happen to know a man referred to as the Shepherd?"

"I'm afraid not. Who is he?" But Belthasar knew when a man played dumb and he could detect the maester lying through his teeth. _Keep this going, for he has to say it,_ he told himself.

"That's funny, because I thought that you would know the answer," Belthasar stated.

"What?" Orwyle looked at him curiously.

"Bring in the prisoner," Mysaria called out to the guards.

From the side of the throne room came the form of Larys Strong. He had always walked with a limp, but Orwyle could see that the guards had to drag him next to the X-shaped cross. What was more horrifying to him was that Larys looked very broken in spirit, as he saw cuts on his face and one of his ears was missing.

"Lord Strong," Orwyle whispered.

"We caught him outside of Rosby trying to escape. And he had much to say, once some of his skin was cut off," Belthasar waved his knife in the maester's face.

"You barbaric scum!" Orwyle growled before glaring at Rhaenyra. "You allowed this?"

"You gave me no choice the day you gave that ultimatum at Dragonstone, so if there is anyone to blame, it's you," Rhaenyra looked at him hard.

"I am tempted to have Lord Strong say what he told me, and he's quite talkative once you know which parts to cut off. But I want to give you the opportunity to say your piece without suffering what he had to suffer. Will you take it?"

"If you continue to be obstinate, not only will Lord Bolton cut your flesh off slowly, he might also unleash his knives upon others who have even a minor role in the riots," Mysaria warned. "What will you choose?"

Orwyle looked at Lord Strong, who was barely able to remain conscious, and he couldn't imagine what the master of whisperers had to go through under the flaying blades of House Bolton. _I'd rather meet the Father as a whole rather in pieces,_ he decided.

"I have something to say, and I hope this is an answer to your question," Orwyle readied himself.

"What is it you want to say?" Rhaenyra crossed her arms.

Orwyle breathed in and out. "Aegon the First of His Name was crowned King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. His son, Maegor the First of His Name, burned down the Sept of Remembrance while taking his niece as a wife. His nephew Jaehaerys the Conciliator put forward a false doctrine which allowed a hideous practice to be continued amongst those that ruled us. No matter what he did, it only delayed the inevitable."

"What was 'inevitable?'" Cregan asked.

"Your ancestor, Torrhen Stark, might have been smart, but you're not one of us and therefore, you could never understand the humiliation that we felt."

"What humiliation?" Daemon pressed.

"This city, this castle, your iron chair, this stench… do you know who made it all? Dragons made it. This city never existed before Aegon the Conqueror came here, and it never should have, because it allowed godless dragonspawn a foothold into a holy land, a land where people worshipped the Seven and knew their place," Orwyle declared.

Rhaenyra, Daemon, Rhaenys and Helaena started to understand what he was saying, while Cregan and the rest watched.

"You showed everyone that magic was alive and well, that the Doom of Valyria had done nothing since the dragons survived. Your family were not kings, but you conquered over others and showed us that we're powerless. Do you know how humiliating it was to see you lot, who practice incest and dark magic, rule over us when we followed everything that the Seven mandated?"

"What are you saying?" Helaena's fist tightened.

"Lord Strong only worked with me because he thought that I only wanted to hurt you, Queen Rhaenyra. However, all dragons are a threat and therefore must be eliminated."

"You started the riots," Lord Bolton figured out.

"That's right. Shame that it only got the Velaryon bastard and only one. Although we were successful at other times," Orwyle eyed at Helaena.

Helaena finally realized it. "You… Daemon never sent Blood and Cheese after me?"

"Of course not. They only said that because I knew that it would feed off of your existing distrust of him. I did," Orwyle admitted.

"Why?" Helaena was close to exploding in rage.

"As I said, all dragons are a threat. The less there are in the world, the better. And the world already knows that dragons can die, so we prove the point further and show to the people just how cursed dragons really are."

The realization had hit Helaena hard, to the point where her breathing became uneven. All this time, she harbored distrust towards Daemon, which turned into hatred once Blood revealed that he was on the pay of the Rogue Prince and Lady Mysaria. Doubt set in when she saw how Daemon reacted when she accused with what Blood divulged. It all seemed to convenient, as Daemon was not above killing children who were a threat to himself and she was not ready to believe that he had changed.

But here was Orwyle, someone she had trusted and someone she had thought who served her well. Never did it enter her mind that this maester would be so treacherous. Her son died because of Orwyle and her other son was probably in danger. She stepped forward and glared at the maester, fire replacing the shock.

"You and your ilk did this because you see yourselves as victims?!" Helaena wanted nothing more than to cut his throat for his self-righteousness, and to avenge her son.  
"And you think you're better than us?" he ignored her. "Without dragons, you're just like us. You people need a lesson in humility."

Daemon was close to stomping to Orwyle and cutting his head off with Dark Sister. "When Aegon told Rhaenyra to submit to him, you suggested it."

"Whatever problems that existed in your family were on all of you dragonspawn. We merely helped it go to its natural conclusion."

"We?" Corlys was surprised.

"I'm not saying any more," Orywle closed his mouth.

"By 'we,' I think he means the rest at the Citadel and possibly at the Starry Sept," Lady Mysaria surmised.

Orywle instantly became fearful. "No, no. The Citadel had nothing to do with it! Just some others who wanted the dragons to kill each other."

"And there it is," Lord Bolton gave a sick smile. "Looks like the maesters and the Faith are all out to get us."

"If you hate all of the dragons, why did you side with Aegon then?" Cregan asked.

"Because he was the most thoroughly shaped by the native traditions of this continent, and he was more easily pliable to our interests. Once enough damage was done, we would have found a way to eliminate him also and work our way down to the last roots of the dragons," Orwyle strongly stated.  
Rhaenyra stepped closer to the chained maester as she moved down from the Iron Throne. While she never could call herself as pious, the fact that the maesters and the Faith had been actively plotting against them disturbed her. It also showed her that even in this castle, they, her children, her family, were not safe. And because there were so few of them, their position couldn't have been more precarious. The approach Jaehaerys adopted had not worked and if they wanted to survive, things had to change. _Things will never be the same again._

"You're right about some things. The Iron Throne was created from nothing, I'll give you that. And the Red Keep didn't exist before Maegor came along. So much pain has been caused by this throne and this castle. You are right about that," she said.

Orwyle looked unmoved.

"But you're forgetting something else. We were perfectly willing to abide by your traditions. Jaehaerys converted to the Faith, Aegon the Conqueror did, we created laws that respected your customs, and we did some others in order to make it easier for us to govern. But obviously, that wasn't enough for you. You continually saw us as threats no matter what we did, and because we have magic, we will never truly be your rulers. So, thank you."  
"For what?" The maester was confused.  
"For letting us all know what must happen from now on if we are to survive. We tried to live by your rules, but now, everyone will have to live by ours." She turned to Helaena. "What do you want to do with him? He killed your son, little Jaehaerys, just like he killed mine."

Helaena grinded her teeth, looking at Cregan momentarily before turning her gaze to Belthasar Bolton. "He deserves to die, but I want him in pain before you put his head on a spike. Flay him."

Cregan blinked in nervousness while Belthasar grinned. "With pleasure, Your Grace."

"As for the Shepherd and Lord Strong, have them hanged, drawn, and quartered, but their limbs will adorn each gate of this city," Rhaenyra commanded.

"And the other prisoners?" Ser Torrhen asked.

"Have them flayed and displayed on those crosses. Blood was spilled, so blood must be shed."

Rhaenyra left with Daemon, Rhaenys, Corlys, and the rest of the small council. Except for Helaena and Cregan, who both watched as Orwyle began the painful journey to his death under Belthasar's knife. While Helaena watched with deep satisfaction, Cregan remained at her side, sensing that she needed someone to lean on even during this time. She turned to him and smiled, proving that she appreciated his gesture.

But Cregan was not going to get used to the maester's screams, which lasted for a few hours.

* * *

Baela cooed at the little babe in her arms while Nettles was sitting upright in her bed. The birth took much of her strength and she fainted as her child came out of her womb. The babe, who had brown hair and amethyst eyes, was a healthy boy, the posthumous son of Jacaerys Velaryon. The relief that set in following the boy's condition was soon replaced by anxiety, as him being of the loins of the eldest Velaryon and of a smallfolk girl might complicate the succession since as far as many knew, Jacaerys was the grandson of Rhaenys and thus this child had a claim on the Iron Throne, bastard or not. What's more, his eyes were all that anyone needed to know that he came from the dragons.

But at that moment, Baela chose not to concern herself with such matters. Having taken to the Lady Nettes very well, she was happy that she was a mother and could only await the day when she would have children of her own. _If the gods will it, I want Daeron to be the father and my husband,_ she thought with hope.

Baela passed the babe to Rhaena, who smiled at the baby boy while also holding little Visenya. She moved to Nettles' side and clasped her hand.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," Nettles answered. "Didn't expect giving birth to be so painful."

"That's… probably one of the things I don't look forward to when I have my children someday."

"But I worry."

"Why do you worry?" Baela asked.

"I might be lowborn, but I am not ignorant in knowing who my child is. Jacaerys might have fathered him, but he's a bastard. While I understand that Her Grace the Queen promised that he will be raised well, the stain of bastardy can never go away. Take a look at myself."

"Well, you could ride a dragon. That has to count for much," Baela offered.

"But I can't guarantee that my son will have a good life. He might end up like me, stuck on some island without a home. He might inherit the coin that Jacaerys gave me when I claimed Sheepstealer, but it won't last him forever."

"Nettles," Baela held her hand tighter. "Now is not the time to be worried about that. You have a child, a healthy boy. Shouldn't his first memories be with a happy mother? Don't burden yourself with all of the fears in the world and focus on the joys that we have right now."

Nettles pursed his lips before nodding. "Your Grace, may I have my baby?" she put her arms out.

Rhaena looked relieved of handing her baby boy back to her, as handling two babes was trying for her arms. Nettles gently held the baby boy and smiled.

"Do you have a name for the baby boy?" Baela inquired.

"I don't know. I never thought I would be a mother, so I don't have much knowledge on what would be a good name for a boy," Nettles admitted.

"We could run some names by you, see if any are to your liking," Rhaena suggested.

"That'd be a good idea, Your Grace," Nettles agreed.

Baela suggested strong sounding names like Justin, Rickard, and Vaemond while Rhaena thought names like Davos, Edwell, and Maric would also be great. Baela also put forward some Valyrian names like Vaemond, Haegon, and Gaemon.

Nettles stopped Rhaena when she passed by one name. "I like Vaegon."

"Hmmm," Baela tapped her fingers. "The name of one of the sons by Jaehaerys the Conciliator, who took more to books than to arms."

"That already sounds promising. I don't want my son to be a warrior, since we all know what war is. Must I condemn him to more violence?" Nettles expressed her worry.

Baela and Rhaena glanced at each other, still unsure on her choice of name. "Nettles, I don't know how much you are aware of Westeros' history, but Vaegon Targaryen was the one that suggested the Great Council that ultimately led to this war."

"Please spare me the histories. I don't have it in me to understand such things and even if I did, I wouldn't want to know because it is something that I can never know. I like the sound of Vaegon, more so because he was not a warrior, so please respect my choice," Nettles was adamant.

Baela exhaled before nodding. "It's your babe after all. So, you name him."

"Very well. You will be safe with me… Vaegon," Nettles pinched his cheek.

_Maybe there's hope after all. If Nettles continues to be in his life, maybe little Vaegon will not follow in his namesake's footsteps._

The door to Nettles' chambers opened, and in came Rhaenyra. Nettles moved to curtsey, but she went to her bed and set her back against the pillow.

"Rest. You need it. Childbirth is never an easy business and one must recover well," Rhaenyra told her. "How is my grandson?"

"Very well, Your Grace," Nettles grinned and overjoyed that the Queen overlooked the fact that her baby son was a bastard.

"Did you give him a name?"

"Yes. His name is Vaegon, Your Grace."

Rhaenyra processed that, before bobbing her head out of respect. "May I hold him?" Nettles handed little Vaegon into her waiting arms and like the rest of her babes, she held him gently and cooed at him. "Nice to meet you, Vaegon. Welcome to the family," she showed her happiness before handing him back to Nettles. "When you are done, Lady Nettles, I need you to report to me. I have a task for you."

"May I ask what you require of me, Your Grace?" Nettles asked.

"All you need to know now is that we need all the dragonriders in the air. I'll give you time to rest and recover. Girls, allow the lady a moment of her peace with her son."

Baela and Rhaena complied, but she gave Nettles one final grin before leaving her chambers.

Following Rhaenyra back to her solar, where their father Daemon and grandparents Corlys Velaryon and Rhaenys were already there, they sat down.

"So, the babe of Nettles shall be called Vaegon Waters. May he grow up into a fine man," Rhaenyra began.

Rhaenys' eyes darkened, the memory of her uncle Vaegon screwing her over with the Great Council very fresh in her mind. "Why did Lady Nettles pick such a cursed name? Does she not know how much damage my dimwitted uncle had done to this family?"

"She doesn't know the entire story, grandmother, and I don't think she really cares, but she didn't have malicious intentions," Baela defended Nettles.

Corlys, on the other hand, was less solemn. "My grandson Prince Jacaerys had a son, a bastard. If I may submit a request, Your Grace."

"What is it?" Rhaenyra turned to her former goodfather and Hand.

"I am thankful that you allowed Addam Velaryon a place to the line of succession to Driftmark. But to secure my line, may I suggest that Vaegon also be included and be legitimized as Vaegon Velaryon, as he does carry my son's blood?"

Rhaenyra clicked her tongue, not exactly liking what Corlys was asking of her, but she didn't want to cause her former goodfather to be angry after all he had done for her. "I'll keep it in mind, but right now, we have more important matters to discuss." She turned to Baela and Rhaena. "The small council are already aware of what's going on, but you two should also know."

"Know what, muña?" Baela could sense the serious tone in her voice.

"We've just reports from our army in Tumbleton. We've won a great victory over Criston Cole, who was captured and is now on his way to King's Landing," Rhaenyra stated. "However, Lord Dustin was killed while engaged in personal combat with Ser Criston."

Baela didn't know the leader of the "Winter Wolves" very well, but she liked the old northman, who proved that age was no limit on one's strength. "That's… unfortunate to hear, regarding Lord Dustin. He seemed like a fine warrior. But it's great that we won."

"We might have won against them, but the situation has now turned for the worst, one that negated the effects of our victory at Tumbleton," Daemon joined in.

"How so?"

"Hugh and Ulf, they burned Tumbleton after betraying us and thus killed many of our surviving troops. They've taken Silverwing and Vermithor and have flown somewhere further south," Rhaenys revealed.

Baela first felt anger at the dragonseeds. They already gained her ire for daring to speak to her in that manner before her father and Lord Cregan beat them both to a pulp. She shouldn't have been surprised that they would do something like betraying the ones that allowed them to ride dragons in the first place, but she would have thought that even they would know better than to turn against the ones they've sworn to fight fore.

Then anger turned to fear, as Ulf and White controlled two very formidable dragons. If they managed to defect to the usurpers, the war would have taken a turn for the worse.

"Have they declared allegiance to Aegon the Usurper?" Rhaena also expressed her worry.

"We don't believe so, and we don't think that they're going to do that either," Rhaenys spoke.

"Why do you think so, grandmother?"

"Think about it, Baela. They don't hold the name Targaryen, but they can ride dragons. Given their behavior in court and what they've done at Tumbleton, it's very possible that they feel no allegiance to the true dragons on either side and thus will try to carve out their own domain because they think that's their right," Rhaenys explained.

"That's preposterous," Rhaena scoffed.

"Even so, they are dangerous and therefore we need all the dragons we can to fly into the air and beat them," Daemon asserted.

"Where do we come in?" Baela looked at her parents, grandmother, and grandsire.

"As soon as Nettles recovers, I need her to ride Sheepstealer again, but this time into battle. We need her," her father stressed.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, kepa. She still has much to learn when it comes to dragonriding," Baela saw her lessons with Rhaenys and with Rhaenyra.

"At this point, we have no choice. We are without two dragons and we have to deal with them before they cause serious damage. She must enter the fray."

Baela sighed before nodding. "Okay. But why did you also call me?"

Rhaenyra, Daemon, Rhaenys, and Corlys glanced at each other in concern. _What's going on?_

"Baela, sweetie, we don't want to put you in this situation, but we have no choice. We need you to mount Moondancer and fly into battle with Nettles," Corlys spoke.

Baela's eyes widened while Rhaena blinked rapidly.

"Grandfather, I— I— I never fought in battle before. And I was just able to mount Moondancer a few moons ago. She doesn't stand a chance against Vermithor and Silverwing," Baela stammered while trying to contain her fear.

"You are the blood of the dragon, Baela, so your connection with Moondancer will be much stronger than Nettles' with Sheepstealer," Daemon explained. "You have a close relationship with Nettles, so you both will be able to rely on each other. And as much as it pains my heart, you were going to enter battle one way or another. Ulf's and Hugh's betrayal merely sped up when you were going to fight."

"But kepa! I can't fight. I don't know how," Baela stuttered.

"That's where you're mistaken, sweetie. You are just like me in that you are combative, and I saw you fight with the squires. You're a fighter, so allow your instincts to guide you."

"What about you? Will you fight with us?"

"I'm not going to leave you unprotected. That's why we will have Addam Velaryon ride with you on Seasmoke, give you extra protection."

Baela was dubious on Addam's ability with a dragon. Seasmoke was as large as Tessarion and thus had a better chance than Moondancer in a fight, but Addam still had a long way to go before he could call himself a master dragonrider.

"Baela, this is important to us. We're still needed here in this city and we can't be in every place all at once," Rhaenyra was not so cold as to have her stepdaughter enter combat at her age. "You'll have a better chance with three dragons against two and Ulf and Hugh are also not experienced fighters. If we allow them both to engage in wanton destruction of our lands, who knows when it will end? We have to end them now."

"But what about grandmother? Can't she fly with us?" Baela looked to Rhaenys.

"Between all of us, we only have six dragons left. Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys must remain in the city to protect against Aemond and the others," Rhaenys stated. "I wish I could come fight with you, child, but this is something you must do without us."

"Please, Baela. We need you. We wouldn't be asking this if there were no other choice," Daemon was practically begging.

Baela gulped. She might have been more inclined to fighting than Rhaena, but the prospect of actual combat frightened her. She only saw the corpses in the aftermath of the riots, but to actually be the one responsible for ending lives was another matter.

But Baela knew that her family needed her, and she did always dream of flying a dragon into battle, just like the Targaryens of old. Breathing in and out, Baela nodded. "Very well, kepa. I'll fly."

Daemon and Rhaenyra walked to Baela, had her stand up, and pulled her into a tight hug while Rhaenys and Corlys patted her on the back.

"Thank you," Daemon whispered.

"You have done the same for me before. It's only right that I repay what you've done for us," Baela assured.

"Just to be clear, you owe us nothing because you are family. But thank you for that," Rhaenyra looked at her in the eyes.

"But how will we find them?" Rhaena asked.

"If I were them, I'd head deeper in the Reach. It's the only place that has rich targets and has enemies that they've already been fighting," Daemon thought aloud. "Once everything is ready, you'll fly south and find them."

A knock came on the door of the solar. "Yes?" Rhaenyra called out.

Ser Torrhen Manderly entered. "Your Grace," he dipped his head. "The prisoner Criston Cole has just been delivered to the Red Keep, along with the body of Roderick Dustin."

The Targaryens and Corlys looked at each other with glee. _So, the steward kingsguard is now in our hands_ , Baela thought happily. _Let's see how smug he is now._

"Bring Criston Cole to where Syrax is and have Lord Cregan attend to the remains of Roderick Dustin. Tell him that I will gladly bury Lord Dustin at my own expense for all services rendered," Rhaenyra told Ser Torrhen

"Yes, Your Grace," Ser Torrhen bowed before exiting the solar.

Rhaenyra and Daemon had looks of satisfaction on their face, resembling predators about to pounce on their prey. "Shall we, Nyra?" Daemon asked Rhaenyra.

"Let's," she kissed him deeply before all made their way to where Syrax was resting in the Red Keep.

Upon arriving there, they found Criston Cole on his knees, without his armor, without his kingsguard cloak, and in chains. He looked disheveled, his head bandaged from the wounds he suffered at Tumbleton, but there was still a look of defiance in his eyes.

All of the small council, including Helaena, Cregan Stark, and Lord Bolton had gathered around to see the Cole knight, the one they had heard and seen so much about, finally being humbled.

Ser Corwyn Corbray dipped his head at Rhaenyra before turning to Daemon. "Your Grace, I present to you Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard," he introduced.

"No introductions are necessary, Ser Corwyn, but he's no Lord Commander. That honor alone rests with Ser Lorent Marbrand," Daemon turned to the Marbrand knight, who nodded his thanks.

"My apologies, Your Grace. I give you his sword and his white cloak," Ser Corwyn held both out, which Daemon took.

"Good work, Ser Corwyn. You've done us all a great service and House Corbray shall get its just recompense," Rhaenyra promised him.

As for Criston, he looked up at Rhaenyra, anger evident in his eyes. But compared to the last time, there was no doubt who held the greater power at the moment.

"Good to see you again, Ser Criston," Rhaenyra gave him a smug smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that might have a problem with Rhaenyra authorizing flaying, remember that this was an extraordinary measure given the times that they are in. But they were able to get the truth, in that a conspiracy was always at work against them. Now, the dragons will be united against a common foe and no longer will they be the manipulated. 
> 
> Vaegon will be someone to keep an eye on, but the great duel with the dragonseeds is about to happen and Criston Cole will get his comeuppance. :D


	17. A death by dragonfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. How you doing? For my American friends, not surprised that the Buccaneers stream-rolled through the Kansas City Chiefs at Super Bowl.

Daeron stood with his hands behind his back, the air in the great hall at Highgarden tense from Aemond, Alicent, Ser Tyland Lannister, his grandfather Otto Hightower, and his cousin Ormund Hightower looking hard at him. He was dressed in his armor, sword tied to his waist, but the only battle to be fought was type with words. However, he was not stupid to not know that he was already at a disadvantage. _But where's Ser Criston?_

After major parts of Oldtown were burned from his efforts to save his nephew Maelor, who he accorded burial rites by Tessarion's flames, he spent the next few days in a slump at the Hightower, crying his eyes out in mourning for his dead nephew. He was afraid of facing Helaena, as he had failed to protect the only son she had left after little Jaehaerys was murdered. Praying for Jaehaera's survival, Daeron shut himself off in his chambers, unwilling to show his sadness over his family's death.

 _Too much was lost, and I couldn't save Maelor, who was like a son to me. I failed as a prince, I failed as an uncle, and I failed as a dragon,_ Daeron told himself. After no more tears could be shed, he just lay there in his bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking of nothing.

Mostly nothing, since the only thoughts that comforted him were the ones from his last time with Baela. _She's doing well, isn't she? She must be, considering that she's more like Daemon than Rhaena._

But at the thought of Daemon, Daeron's first instinct was to imagine socking him in the face and pummeling it until it was so swollen to wipe away the good looks he was known for even at his age. He held no bad feelings towards the Rogue Prince because otherwise, he wouldn't have fell for Baela in the first place. However, once that butcher told all that Mysaria and Daemon were behind it, Daeron began to really struggle between seeking retribution and continuing his longing for Baela. He couldn't bring himself to think about killing Daemon, as that would hurt Baela, but he couldn't just let little Jaehaerys' death go without a cost. _If I ever see him again, I'll have more than a few words to say to him._

One day, the door of his chambers knocked incessantly at his refusal to answer. Annoyed, Daeron opened it. To his surprise, it was Ser Victor Risley, head of House Risley and Knight of the Risley Glade. "What is it, Ser Victor?"

"Your Grace, I've come on behalf of the Prince Regent, the Queen Mother, and Lady Tyrell to inform that you have been summoned to Highgarden to answer for your conduct in this city."

"Why did they send you, Ser Victor? Don't you have men in the field that require your presence?" Daeron knew that Ser Victor was more than just a simple hedge knight, so for him to deliver messages was very unexpected.

"Your Grace, the situation in this city and this war has required a presence of someone that they could trust. Besides collecting you, I've also been tasked by their Graces to collect the body of the late Prince Maelor."

"You're too late for that, Ser Victor. He's naught but ashes," Daeron then closed the door.

Washing his face and dressing up in his armor, he was not in the mood to see Aemond. _I would think that him being married would have made him stay at Storm's End longer, but I should've known that even a woman's touch was not enough to make him feel anything other than rage._

Saying his goodbyes to Ser Myles and Seneschal Ryam, Daeron rowed to the empty docks where Tessarion was waiting for him.

 _Are you all right?_ he heard her ask.

 _What do you think?_ Daeron didn't mean to brush her off, but there was so many other things that were on his mind that he didn't want to talk about anything. Thankfully, Tessarion understood and said nothing more before they both flew into the air and towards Highgarden.

Daeron spared one last look to the city of Oldtown, with a few of the parts still burning and smoke rising from it. The household at the Hightower certainly didn't look at him well after what he did, but they shut their mouths when they saw him holding the lifeless body of his nephew.

Flying through the clouds, Daeron finally saw Highgarden, and the unmistakable shape of Vhagar flying above. Tessarion and Vhagar roared to each other in greeting, as the Blue Queen flew down and landed near the ramparts of the seat of the Tyrells. Sliding off, Daeron scratched Tessarion's snout before allowing her to fly back up. He was then greeted by Ser Marq Ambrose, who took him to the hall. _Not even mother is greeting me. This must be serious,_ Daeron sighed.

"Prince Daeron," Tyland began. "You do realize the object that has brought you here today, yes?"

"I'm afraid I don't, Ser Tyland." Daeron had an idea, but he wanted to spite Tyland.

"You burned my home, Prince Daeron!" Ormund Hightower suddenly shouted and stood up, only for Otto Hightower to pull him back down. "Don't you dare touch me!"

"Cousin, if you are not going to be calm during these proceedings, I will have you removed from this hall and you will not be invited to others. Understood?" Aemond chastised him. Ormund Hightower scoffed, but he calmed down.

"Daeron, sweetie," Alicent joined in. "Why did you burn Oldtown?"

"Do you not know, mother?" Daeron looked at her. "Maelor and I were attacked, by someone from the Faith."

That certainly shocked those in attendance. "What do you mean by that, Prince Daeron?" Otto Hightower asked.

"I'm saying that someone from the Faith started to preach against the dragons in Oldtown's undercity, which continued unabated and eventually led to a crowd attacking us while we were showing Maelor to the city," Daeron answered.

"Why did you show Maelor to the city folk?" Aemond kept his face blank.

"Ser Myles Hightower and Seneschal Ryam of the Citadel recommended showing the future king of the Seven Kingdoms to the people to reassure them that they didn't have to worry about the war. Of course, I had my doubts because the Oldtown City Watch were not doing anything against the threat from the undercity. When we were attacked, Ser Rickard Thorne gave his life so that we could escape," Daeron explained.

"Our condolences to Ser Rickard. He died with honor," Ser Tyland noted, but Daeron had to suppress a scowl.

"Continue," Aemond kept looking at him.

"Eventually, the crowd caught us on a bridge, and we were about to be overwhelmed. With no options left, I had Tessarion burn the parts closest to us, but the bridge collapsed and Maelor drowned," Daeron had a hard time trying not to cry.

"So, in this case, the burning of Oldtown and the death of Prince Maelor were your fault," Ormund Hightower sneered.

"My lord, that is too far," Otto Hightower warned, but Ormund was not deterred.

"Looks like the only thing that you're good at is flying your dragon. I guess I was mistaken in deeming you 'the Daring,' for you've proven yourself a failure," Ormund continued.

"Ormund!" Alicent barked.

Daeron's first instinct was to punch his cousin for saying those words to him, especially since he clearly had no idea what he was talking about. But he willed himself to be calm and thus found another way to strike.

"If there is anyone to blame in this disaster, then I would point out that Ser Myles and Seneschal Ryam recommended that Maelor be shown to the city. More blame must be placed on Ser Myles, since he failed his duties as Commander of the Oldtown City Watch," Daeron shot back.

"That's a serious accusation, Daeron. Do you have proof?" Alicent asked.

"The proof of either his incompetence or willful negligence can be found from how easily he was able to access the vaults of the Hightower, which contain the portion of the treasury we entrusted to Oldtown, even though he is not from the main line of Hightowers," Daeron stated.

"How is that? Main line or not, he is a Hightower and therefore has a right to be there," Ormund dismissed.

Daeron was getting very annoyed at Ormund speaking to him so familiarly, even though they might have had history going back years. "That's not the point. His duties as commander of the City Watch should make him focused only on the affairs of the city, not the Hightower itself. Also, he found time to have the man most responsible for safeguarding the gold there sent somewhere else, when in fact, he couldn't do that since he's not the lord. Do you mind explaining that to me?"

Ormund was at a loss for words, not expecting Daeron to know that. That only made him more suspicious of what was really happening. _What in the Seven Hells is going on here?_

"Your concerns about the conduct of Ser Myles and Seneschal Ryam are well-founded, dear brother, and I shall investigate the matter at a later time. But the conduct that we've come to discuss today is yours only," Aemond said. "Despite the context that you have provided, it is also clear that you are responsible for the deaths of hundreds, possibly thousands, of citizens while causing much burdens on the city and House Hightower."

 _As if that stopped you before, hypocrite,_ Daeron thought.

"Your exploits at the Honeywine must've been misleading, as it showed that you do not have the other qualities needed of a leader in wartime," Ser Tyland added.

"Therefore, it is the decision of this council to relieve you of all your commands in the army," Otto spoke coldly. "You are to remain in Highgarden until further notice."

Daeron was stoic. "Are you sure that's a good idea? It won't be smart to leave one of your most potent dragons out of combat."

"You are forbidden from riding Tessarion anywhere unless we give you instructions. Should you try to do so without our clearance, you will be forcibly detained. Is that clear?" Aemond warned him.

_Oh, so it is like that now?_

"You're dismissed, brother," Aemond waved him of. With that, Daeron turned around and went to his quarters in the castle.

Setting his sword down, he looked up at the ceiling, frankly reassured that he didn't have to be in more fighting at the moment. No more giving commands, no more having to jump into the fray. All he could do was rest, as he was doing in the Hightower.

That night, he ate dinner in his chambers, glad that he didn't have to see Aemond. He was probably busy elsewhere, acting as a king would but not actually being the king.

The doors to his chambers opened, with Alicent coming in. "How are you, sweetie?"

"How do you think?" Daeron asked rhetorically.

Alicent exhaled. "I know that things must be difficult, with you not being a leader of men."

"You really think that's on my mind at the moment?"

"I know," Alicent sat near him and clasped his hand, a tear escaping her eye. "Baby Maelor."

Daeron and Alicent embraced each other, letting the tears flow. For a brief fleeting moment, mother and son mourned the loss of the one. For once, Daeron was allowed to be an uncle and Alicent could be a grandmother, both in mourning.

However, their one chance of being tender with each other, without being concerned with the war and politics, was interrupted by someone rushing into his chambers.

"Your Graces, Prince Daeron is needed at the hall," the Tyrell household knight was frantic.

Glancing at each other, Daeron wiped his eyes and ran to the hall, where Aemond was waiting for him.

"Learned your lesson, brother?" Aemond asked.

"What do you want?"

"This day might either be filled with good fortune or disaster," Aemond said cryptically.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know Ulf and Hugh, the bastard riders of Vermithor and Silverwing?"

Daeron had heard about the riders recruited by Jacaerys Velaryon. "Yes."

"Well, they've betrayed our traitorous sister and have burned Tumbleton."

Daeron pursed his lips. "Shouldn't that be good news? Lood Footly is a traitor."

"But the enemy captured Ser Criston and he should be in King's Landing by now. Most importantly, the bastard riders had been spotted in the Dornish Marches, the parts that are within the realm, burning as they go. It's clear that they're on nobody's side and are fighting everyone, like bastards would."

 _So, that's why Criston wasn't here._ Daeron didn't actually enjoy the Cole knight's presence, even though he saw him as able knight and a skilled commander. _But not skilled enough._ "Why did you call me, brother?" he wanted to get to the point.

"Ride out to them. They might have Vermithor and Silverwing, but you have the most experience with riding. Engage them and kill them, but spare the dragons if you can," Aemond commanded.

"Even with my experience and Tessarion, I'll be hard pressed with two dragons instead of one," Daeron pointed out. "Maybe… you should come with me. With Vhagar, we'll easily overwhelm them."

"No," Aemond shook his head. "I am needed here in case our wicked Uncle Daemon tries to strike us."

 _I see…_ Daeron was not offered his command back and was now just an asset.

"You have a problem with this task, brother?"

Daeron exhaled before shaking his head. "No. I will see it done."

"Good. Report back here when the bastards are but corpses on the ground. Good luck."

Daeron turned around, brushing off how cold his older brother was. Calling Tessarion to him, he got on and grabbed her spines. He looked at his mother once more, remembering that for once, she was being a mother and not trying to rationalize what had just happened.

Then, Tessarion flew back in the air at his command, their direction being the Dornish Marches, wherever the dragonseeds were.

 _Oh, gods. Please protect me. May I not rely on my skill alone and help me prevail,_ Daeron prayed.

* * *

Daemon saw his rival and enemy on his knees, in the yard of the Red Keep for all to see. After spending a day in the Black Cells, he was brought out to be executed. All of the small council and most of the commanders in her armies, from the riverlords, the Vale lords, and the northern lords, were present to see the former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard meet his end.

Rhaenyra was not going to extend mercy to one of the enemy's senior commanders and the declared Hand to her traitorous brother. This was met with much approval from the northern lords, as they wanted Lord Dustin to be avenged. The Vale lords and riverlords saw him as someone who violated his kingsguard oaths by siding with an illegal claimant and so also wished for his death. To express their hatred towards the Cole knight, Rhaenyra had Corwyn Corbray melt down Criston's sword while Ser Lorent burned his white cloak in front of him before proclaiming that his name will be struck off the pages of the White Book. _In essence, he would be nothing._

But he had to die, as everyone knew. After assembling a trial without Criston's presence, Rhaenyra declared him guilty of high treason and sentenced him to death. Lord Bolton offered to do the deed, but she declined, saying that there was a more fitting end for the turncoat kingsguard. To that end, she had Syrax besides her, staring straight at the Cole knight.

Also in attendance were his daughters Baela, Rhaena, Shiera, and baby Visenya in Baela's arms, his son Aegon, and his niece Jaehaera. Standing beside her daughter was Helaena, with Cregan Stark very close to her. Daemon noted how they glanced at each other and recognized the same tension that he and Rhaenyra had all those years ago. He was skeptical of Helaena and the head of House Stark begin together, but he was in no position to be judgmental. Helaena is all right. _If she and Lord Stark end up happy with each other, who's to object? After all, Cregan would be a better husband than my pig nephew_ , he thought.

It was important for his daughters to be here, as they needed to fully understand what it meant to be a true dragon. To be a rider meant facing the consequences whenever the flames left the dragon's mouth and accepting it as a natural part of their inheritance, whether good or bad.

It was especially important for Baela, since Moondancer had grown large enough for her to ride and she would soon enter her first battle. Like Rhaena, Baela took after her mother Laena very well, from her cheeks, her eyes, and ears. But on a deeper level, he knew that she took after himself more than Rhaena, since Baela was always a fighter. Even though Laena wasn't the love of his life, he loved her all the same and the gods must've been pleased since they were blessed with two beautiful girls. And he also owed it to Laena to keep their children safe, as it was her that made him see the errors in his ways and make him be more responsible for his actions and as a father. _If I had it any other way, she would have more years until her first taste of combat comes to her._

It was important for Jaehaera to also bear witness, as there was talk among a few of the courtiers in the Red Keep that she would marry his son Aegon. From a logical standpoint, it made sense because as the last of the main contender for the Iron Throne, having his son marry Jaehaera would be instrumental in bringing peace to the realm. But whether she would be a good wife to Aegon was another matter entirely, which was why Daemon had Jaehaera be present. _If she behaves as a true dragon would and not turn away, then I would seriously consider the matter of betrothal._

Most important for Daemon was Aegon being there. As the oldest surviving male heir coming from Rhaenyra's womb, he needed to prove to all that he was worthy of succeeding to the throne after his parents passed on. And how he acted during Criston's demise would show all whether he was a true dragon. _Maybe experiencing what a dragon can do to its enemy up close might also make him less fearful, since riding a dragon is the most powerful thing that can happen to anyone._

Rhaenyra stood next to Syrax, wearing Myrish gown that was richly ordained with pearls and jewels while wearing golden bracelets and necklace. But if one looked very closely, they could see her belly just slightly protruding through the fabric and her bosoms larger, both of them signs of pregnancy. The children were delighted at the prospect of another sibling joining them, with Baela and Rhaena especially vocal in their hopes for another sister like Visenya. As for Aegon, he finally smiled and kissed his mother's stomach, but was still quiet.

To Daemon, Rhaenyra never looked more beautiful than when she was with child. She bore them three healthy babes and was now on the way to welcoming a fourth. He then looked forward to pleasuring his niece-wife, the thoughts of squeezing her juicy breasts and inserting his length in her entrance momentarily taking him away from the occasion that now befell them.

But Daemon shook his head and turned his attention back to Criston. _I can always think about coupling with Nyra later_ , he told himself.

Rhaenyra nodded to Corlys, who stood next to Rhaenys, prompting him to read out the declaration of attainder that condemned Criston. "Ser Criston Cole," the small council intentionally left out his previous titles but could not remove his knighthood. "You have been found guilty of the crimes of high treason, murder, and rebellion against Her Grace Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. For the crimes of rebellion and murder, you are hereby denounced and attainted. Anyone with the name Cole shall be stripped of all ranks and titles, of all lands and holdings, and be barred from all privileges of lordship and knighthood. You are also officially removed from the White Book and be subjected to the rank of a simple hedge knight."

All of those in attendance nodded their heads at the just punishment.

"For the crime of high treason," Corlys continued. "You are to be sentenced to death, to be carried out by the Queen's Justice. This verdict would normally call for you to be drawn on a hurdle through the streets of King's Landing, be hanged until you be half dead, cut down alive and your bowels to be taken out  
of your body and burned before you, your privy parts cut off, your head cut off, and your body to be divided in four parts."

Daemon saw Criston flinch at that punishment, which was only reserved for those guilty of high treason. _So, he's afraid of death after all._ He was not surprised, but he found himself still disappointed.

"But Her Grace has deemed a more suitable punishment. You are to be burned in this place by dragonfire, and your ashes scattered amongst the dung and wastes of this city," Corlys finished.

"Thank you, Lord Hand," Rhaenyra had never looked more satisfied than she was at that moment. "Ser Criston, you supported my usurper brother in the hopes of rising above your station as the son of a steward. It's only fair that you meet your end at the flames of a dragon. Never has this keep seen a knight more bent, more villainous, and more scheming than yourself. Your death shall be an example to those who wish to dishonor the white cloak and let their ambitions dictate their actions."

Criston gave her a defiant look. Daemon recognized that before the Cole knight hated Rhaenyra, he was obsessed with her. The secret of the Velaryon boys' parentage would be forever a secret, as Criston's influence in the grand scheme of things would be forgotten and deemed insignificant.

"I have some things to say," Criston said, but Lord Bolton push him to the ground with his leg.

"That's 'Your Grace' to you, wretch," Belthasar Bolton sneered. "Show your respect."

Rhaenyra crossed her arms. "All right. Ser Criston. It is a tradition for prisoners soon to be executed to say a few words. If you want to say them, say them now."

Criston straightened his back and looked around him. "Good people of Westeros, all of you may see me a traitor and a knight who dishonored the white cloak. However, such a term is used when the one who tries to do the right thing is about to be eliminated by those who commit evil."

Daemon blinked but scoffed at Criston's pathetic sentences. _You're one to talk._

"Before the dragons came via Aegon the Conqueror, the history of Westeros was littered with the tragedies of those who tried to pass on their crowns to their daughters. Even Argella Durrandon had to marry Orys Baratheon if she wanted to stay at Storm's End," Criston continued.

Daemon rolled his eyes. _If that was the case, why did Argella have three boys with Orys when one was enough? He's only saying this to try to appeal to them._

"Look what has happened now. A woman has now placed herself on the throne and has this war ended? No. In fact, it's became worse, as the people of this city rose up against her and engaged in wanton violence."

Daemon groaned. _Because of Orwyle and Lord Strong, not because they hate Nyra._

"Westeros is not ready for a woman to take the reins of power, something that your rightful king, Aegon the Second of His Name, has seen. And this great land will never thrive under that woman, especially since she invites unwelcome presences in her bed," Criston shot venomously.

No one missed the implication the Cole knight was giving, as it was aimed against Daemon and against the Strong knight, the latter of whom everyone believed was the father. _Only a few know the truth, and it shall never see the light of day._

"It's funny, Nyra," Criston laughed while calling her by her nickname. "You claim to be a good mother, but you never did a good job at it. Little Aegon is damaged, and little Viserys is a captive. You lost three children and your youngest might as well be good as dead! All the bastards that you carried in your womb, all the ones that I had put there, have died!"

Something snapped in Daemon, as he strode towards Criston and punched him hard in the cheek. But before he hit the ground, he didn't stop throwing his fists on Criston's face. He went for his nose, his other cheek, his jaws, and his eyes. Before it got swollen, he felt someone pull him off of Criston. Turning around, he saw that it was Cregan, who whispered, "He's going to die soon. Please be patient."

Daemon shook off Cregan's arms before moving back to Rhaenyra. She then moved forward to Criston while speaking with a lowered voice, but he could still make out her words.

"Those bastards that you so slander about, I can happily say that one of them was a dragon after all. Joffrey died in the dragonpit, but not before killing over a dozen rioters. Only one with dragonblood could do that, meaning that my blood was the strongest over the other's blood," Rhaenyra told him. Criston's eyes widened. "So, you see, all of your attempts to get to me have failed. It was not your fault that you were born into nothing, but you dying with nothing is on your own hands. And you'll die knowing that all of your attempts to climb upwards, all of the times that you tried to win my heart, no one will remember it. No one will hear of it. You'll depart this world… alone."

Criston's face became pale. Equally damaging to the Cole knight was the fact that all of his deeds will end up for naught, and that everything that he had done will die with him. _That's the fear of any ambitious man, since they fear disappearing into the nothingness after all of their efforts._

Rhaenyra stepped back and readied herself. "Let justice be served!" She turned to Syrax. "Dracarys."

Syrax opened her mouth and let loose her flames, with Criston's screams being heard across the yard. A few more seconds passed before Syrax ceased her flames, after which where once a disgraced kingsguard knelt was now a pile of ashes.

Daemon looked to his children and Jaehaera. Baela, Rhaena, Shiera, and Jaehaera all had that expression on their faces, the one he had when he first saw Caraxes unleash his flames. It was a look of satisfaction, of acceptance, and of others when one can feel the strength flowing through them. _Jaehaera will fit in nicely with us_ , Daemon thought.

As for Aegon, Daemon was worried when he saw his son blink rapidly and his lips tremble. The memories of the Gullet were still there, and his fear of the dragons had now fully manifested. That's when Daemon realized that his son's future looked bleak, as how could one have dragonblood without being able to embrace a dragon's nature? _What more could I do? There has to be something,_ Daemon contemplated.

Disturbing him more was how Aegon was looking at his mother. He was afraid of her, especially since she ordered Syrax to burn a man alive in public. It must've brought back memories of when Jacaerys died and Viserys was captured, but this time, he was seeing his own mother be responsible for dragonfire being released. This was markedly different from Jaehaera, who looked at her aunt with awe as she allowed the strength of the dragons to enter her and had seen a prime example of it at that moment in Rhaenyra.

 _I have to remind Aegon that Nyra is still his mother._ But Daemon knew that children had great memories and whatever trauma he had would not go away, which would only get worse since he was looking at his own mother with fear.

Looking to Rhaenyra, he heard her whisper, "Shall we celebrate in our chambers, over a good meal and then under our sheets?"

Daemon didn't need to be asked twice. He would prepare Baela for battle starting tomorrow and attempt to deal with Aegon's anxieties himself, but he would enjoy his wife's embrace and their mutual glee over Criston's demise.

"Yes, let your uncle pleasure you," Daemon smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My god, is Daeron in a dicey position, receiving the displeasure from Aemond but also trying to take down the dragonseeds. Things will not look good.
> 
> But yes, I loved writing Criston's death. Although him not keeping his mouth shut will cause a few doubts.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!


	18. Duel above the mountains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. How you doing? For my American friends especially in the affected areas like Texas and California, I hope that you are recovering well from all of the power outages and whatnot. I can't imagine how difficult a lack of electricity and water must've been for you. For those of you similarly affected around the world, I hope you're also recovering and adapting.

Baela kept her grasp on Moondancer’s spines as she flew behind Nettles, who flew alongside Addam Velaryon on their respective dragon mounts, Sheepstealer and Seasmoke, as they neared the last place where anyone saw the dragons Vermithor and Silverwing. Using her connections and the tips from her little birds, Lady Mysaria was able to narrow down their last location to a tiny area near the Reach and the Stormlands. However, that area encompassed the Boneway, the only traversable pass between the stormlands and Dorne in the Red Mountains. Upon hearing of their location, Rhaenyra, Daemon, and the small council were alarmed, as that could only mean that the traitors intended to have the war spill over in Dorne. Although the last Dornish War ended without bloodshed thanks to King Jaehaerys, a war with Dorne was the last thing that anyone needed. Daemon was half-tempted to have the Dornish attack the stormlands and the Reach, only for Rhaenyra to shake her head since those kingdoms were still part of the realm.

Although Baela had yet to see sixteen name-days, her father and stepmother both decided that it was time that she entered combat, because they and Rhaenys were needed to protect King’s Landing. Daemon gave her some additional pointers on how to use Moondancer’s small size to her advantage, but the most important one stuck with her. “Kill the rider, and the dragon will become ineffective. That’s the quickest but most efficient way to beat a dragon, which you will have to do since Vermithor and Silverwing are much more experienced in flying than Moondancer is.”

Dressed in custom armor made of steel plates and mail, she was given a longsword to better protect herself, as she did have lessons with the master-at-arms at Dragonstone. But Daemon and Rhaenyra both strongly warned her to not engage in close combat if necessary, as she never killed before and would thus struggle against more experienced warriors. Seeing their point, Baela nodded in understanding.

All three dragonriders departed from King’s Landing, flew past the smoldering ruins of Tumbleton, and made their way towards the Boneway. All of them were aware that even though they outnumbered the dragons of their foes, Vermithor and Silverwing could easily overcome them if they were not careful enough. As such, Baela, Nettles, and Addam never stopped looking around them, their eyes on the lookout for the opposing dragons.

Baela didn’t know Addam Velaryon very well, but she really hoped that Nettles would be able to make it through the war alive. _Her son needs his mother. She can’t abandon him now,_ she thought. In the few moments she had seen Nettles, she had the potential to become a great mother and Vaegon might avoid the fate of his namesake. With Rhaenyra promising to support her and Vaegon, they were both guaranteed to live comfortably. _Plus, I get to spend more time with my potential nephew,_ Baela mused, even though she saw Vaegon more from her muña’s blood than Jacaerys, with whom she wasn’t very close to.

The Red Mountains finally appeared in the distance, which was a welcome change of pace from all of the flat grasslands of the Reach. Another danger that potentially lied in wait for them came from Aemond on Vhagar or Aegon on Sunfyre. The latter seemed unlikely since there were reports that Aegon was still inactive and healing, but Aemond was definitely one to be very much feared, as Vhagar could easily overwhelm all of them. Fortunately, Aemond was nowhere to be seen near the Red Mountains. As for Daeron, she hoped that he was still all right and that she wouldn’t have to cross paths with him while they were in war. _Please keep him safe,_ she prayed to the gods.

Flying over the peaks of the Red Mountains, Baela, Nettles, and Addam knew that the Boneway was so named because it contained among the most barren and unforgiving type of ground in the Seven Kingdoms, causing the deaths of many who had attempted to cross it. Not only that, the Wyls and Yronwoods guarded the Dornish side and had killed any trespassers, while the stormlanders had returned the favor by killing Dornishmen who tried to invade the Dornish Marches. And it was from all of that that they were able to locate the dreaded path through the Red Mountains.

Baela, Nettles, and Addam then flew in a circle, taking a suggestion from Daemon and Rhaenys regarding defensive patterns. They also flew on different altitudes, as it maximized their chances of being able to defend each other and avoid casualties since if one dragon attacked one of their own, the other two can move in to assist. It was quite ingenious in Baela’s mind, which wasn’t surprising given that Daemon and her grandmother were among the most experienced dragonriders ever.

All of a sudden, a dragon roar exploded through the air, definitely not from Sheepstealer, Moondancer, or Seasmoke. Baela looked around and then above, her body shaking in fear as she saw the unmistakable shape of Vermithor descending from the sun onto Seasmoke, who had occupied the highest rung in their defensive formation. The Bronze Fury’s talons latched onto Seasmoke’s neck, Addam clearly not having enough time to reach properly. Baela felt terrified, as the waiting for battle was over.

By instinct, Sheepstealer and Moondancer flew upwards, roaring in response at the Bronze Fury’s entrance. Nettles’ mount used his head to slam against Vermithor’s body, which had enough force to force the Bronze Fury off of Seasmoke, but not before they were deep cuts in the neck Addam Velaryon’s dragon. All of the motions felt very violent and sudden to Baela, as horses never jerked this strong

As if one body, the three dragons attacked Vermithor, with Sheepstealer releasing flames onto his neck, Seasmoke using his talons to claw at the Bronze Fury’s wings, and Moondancer trying to make her way to Hugh through her smaller body. It was the first Baela saw fire released in anger, and it felt hotter than the most potent forges and the smoke could easily overshadow the bitterest of burnt meat. For a moment, it seemed as if the Bronze Fury would not have enjoyed one more moment of life in the air, as three dragons attacking him simultaneous was too much even for the legendary mount of Jaehaerys the Conciliator. But as Moondancer got closer to Hugh, Baela could only wonder where Silverwing was.

Unfortunately, she must’ve tempted fate, as another roar echoed through the air. Glancing downwards, Baela saw Alysanne Targaryen’s mount climb towards the dragon brawl. And it looked as if her first target was Seasmoke, who was directly above her.

“Addam! Look out!” Baela mustered her best voice. But it was too late, as Silverwing bit on Seasmoke’s wing and forced him off of Vermithor’s body. Now, it was up to Nettles and herself to take out Vermithor and Hugh.

“Come on, girl! Hurry!” Baela urged Moondancer. Seeing what her companion was doing, Nettles had Sheepstealer take over Seasmoke’s position, which was to claw and bite at Vermithor. In an extended duel, Sheepstealer would be overwhelmed by the Bronze Fury, but it was the only chance that he could give to Moondancer.

Now incensed, Vermithor released his flames and was able to force Sheepstealer away. He then used the distance gained to swing around and strike Nettles’ mount in his head with his tail, stunning the dragon. Stalling, Sheepstealer managed to regain his altitude, but was now at the mercy of the Bronze Fury, as he opened his jaw and bit down on his neck, hard. Sheepstealer could only cry in pain from the force of the teeth that was close to snapping his neck.

Desperate and using the distraction that Sheepstealer afforded her, Baela had Moondancer circle to the back of Vermithor and could finally see Hugh. She could see that the crazed expression on the dragonseed’s face, as he relished combat too much and how the strong overcame the weak. However, he must’ve sensed Baela, as he turned his head and saw Moondancer closing in on him. He was not going to go quietly away, as he pulled out his warhammer and tried to scare off Moondancer and Baela with his swings.

 _I don’t need to get close to you,_ she thought smugly. She felt glee, as she would follow in her father’s footsteps and put him in his place, permanently. “Dracarys!” she ordered.

Even though her flames paled in comparison to the bigger dragons and the heat was not as searing, Moondancer’s fire was enough to melt the armor on Hugh and have him scream in pain. In his final moments in the air, he lost his grip on the spines and fell down, his body to be broken upon impact on the ground.

To Baela’s horror, however, that didn’t stop Vermithor’s attack on Sheepstealer. Vengeful for his rider’s death, the Bronze Fury must’ve decided to take at least one dragon and its rider in revenge. “Girl, hurry! We have to save Nettles!” she cried out.

Acting quickly, Moondancer landed on Vermithor’s head, using her small teeth and claws to pierce his eyes. The Bronze Fury screamed as he was blinded. Fortunately, it was enough, as Vermithor released his bite on Sheepstealer. Baela found horses to be easier to handle, as they didn’t have to potential to really hurt someone with their teeth, and more effort had to be put in. Together, the two dragons released their fire on his head, not stopping until it was blackened, and his neck charred. Ultimately, he had reached his limit and he gave up, as he stopped roaring and the last breath left his mouth. Baela and Nettles both watched as the Bronze Fury fell towards the earth, dead.

Both knew that there was no time to celebrate, as they flew back around and looked for Addam. Looking at the ground, they were horrified when they saw smoke coming from Seasmoke, who had become a corpse on the ground. _If he’s dead, then Addam is also._

Seemingly out of nowhere, Silverwing slammed into the side of Sheepstealer, causing Nettles to almost lose her grip. But that was enough enough, as her dragon was already weakened from the brawl with Vermithor. At the same time, Baela could see that Silverwing was not in a good shape either, as there were gashes and burn marks all over her silvery body.

Moondancer flew to assist Sheepstealer, as he and Silverwing circled each other and breathed fire. Unlike the other time, Silverwing was angrier and more aggressive, as she had just lost her mate and was not about to let an easier kill escape her grasp. Moondancer let out her fire, but this turned out to be a mere nuisance to the mount of Alysanne Targaryen, as she got closer to her prey. Upon closing the distance and turning a tighter circle, her talons latched onto Sheepstealer’s wings while her jaws bit down on his already weak neck. With a twist of her head and a sickening crack being heard, Silverwing broke Sheeptstealer’s neck. She then ripped off his head, it falling towards the ground, before repositioning and aiming to Nettles.

Without thinking, Moondancer tried to get Silverwing’s attention by flying close to her, but she used her left wing to strike at her head, pushing her away. Baela could only watch as Silverwing bathed Nettles and Sheepstealer’s corpse in fire.

“NO!” she could only shout as her friend perished. Baela wanted to attack again and avenge her friend, but Moondancer shrieked, telling her that it was impossible since it was now them vs Ulf and Silverwing.

Knowing the danger that they were both in, Moondancer flew straight towards the ground before leveling out as close to the dirt as possible. There was simply no chance that they could take on Silverwing by themselves, so they had to get as close to the earth as possible, betting that her smaller size would be more maneuverable.

Flying through the various passes of the Red Mountains, Baela trusted Moondancer to fly while she looked behind them. Ulf and Silverwing were above them, also knowing that that they couldn’t go that close to the ground, but that didn’t stop them from breathing fire from above. While the fire didn’t touch them, various peaks in the Red Mountains were set ablaze, the smoke plumes being seen for many miles around. Baela gripped Moondancer’s spines as hard as she could, as the various twists and turns that her dragon was forced to take through the passes were beginning to take a toll on her head. She started to become dizzy and her eyes were watering from the air that was forced against them. She also began to fill sick, as her insides were nearing the limits of their toleration of the outside pushes against her body.

Now that she was on the receiving side of the fire, her armor started to heat up. She didn’t feel the burns forming from the mail on her skin, the smoky scent that came whenever the flames hit the ground, or the blisters forming on her hands and fingers as they clung to dear life. Like the most desperate of game, she was running for her life, the hunter becoming the hunted.

Eventually, Baela knew that Moondancer would tire and that there would be no more passes to fly through. They would have to either land, or fly upwards, both of which would leave them at the mercy of Ulf. She was afraid of dying, as she wanted to live out her life and wanted a family, with her love coming to her mind. _Is this what death feels like? My desires and my life flashing through my head before I am killed?_

Baela shut her eyes and prayed, begging for the gods for something that could save her. _Please, help me! I need your help! Something! Anything!_

Suddenly, the flames from Silverwing ceased, confusing both Moondancer and Baela. Turning around again, she saw the silver dragon engaged with a blue dragon. Her eyes widened, as there was only one blue dragon born to House Targaryen. “Daeron?” she let out in relief.

Silverwing was already wounded, so Baela thought that she wouldn’t last along against a healthy Blue Queen. However, she wouldn’t go down without putting up a fight, as she would discover.

Finding a peak to land on, Baela and Moondancer caught their breath, feeling their muscles become sore and their throats strained from how much air they had to take on. Swallowing, she looked up, her eyes widening.

Contrary to what she expected, she saw that Tessarion was in fact struggling. Despite being healthier, Silverwing was older and thus had more experience. Both of them were clawing and biting at each other, but Silverwing seemed to do more of both as her anger for Vermithor’s death and being denied another kill showed.

Baela shook her head, disbelieving it. Her eyes were not deceiving her and Daeron was now at risk. She couldn’t let her love die after all they’ve been through. She wanted to feel his touch again and hear him whisper sweet-nothings in her ear. And she felt fury rise, as Ulf was partly responsible for Silverwing not letting up and she wasn’t going to let the one who spoke so stupidly in court triumph over the one she wanted to spend her life with.

Baela was still trying to catch her breath and finally noticed how horribly scarred her hands had become, the sting from them finally being felt. However, Baela swallowed it and readied herself. By now, Silverwing was about to bite on Tessarion’s neck. _It’s now or never!_

Deciding to help her love, Baela had Moondancer fly up to the dragon brawl. Using the same tactics against Vermithor, she was able to get close enough to Ulf. Despite having white hair, all Baela could see was a false dragon and didn’t hesitate in shouting, “Dracarys!” With another stream of fire, Moondancer killed the last dragonseed, and his flaming corpse fell off Silverwing and towards the ground.

As for Silverwing, she was able to push Tessarion off of her and flew northwards. Deciding that enough was enough, Baela and Moondancer circled around Daeron and Tessarion, their purple eyes looking at each other for the first time since the war started. And Baela could only think of so many ways to thank her love for saving her life.

They both found a place to land their dragons, which was coincidentally where Vermithor’s corpse lay still. Moondancer landed first and Baela stepped off. Even though it was the mount of Jaehaerys the Conciliator, she could nothing but triumph for what she had accomplished with Nettles. Walking over the body, she was able to find the blackened corpse of Hugh, who she was able to recognize from how big it was.

“THAT'S RIGHT! THAT'S RIGHT!” she kicked the body, with some chunks falling off. “That's what you get! Look at you, your bronze body all burned and cut up! Who's the rider? Huh? Who's the true rider? You’re lucky that Silverwing flew away, or I would have also had pleasure in burning her up and cutting her also!”

Tripping on a stone, she sat beside Hugh’s dead form. Unsheathing her sword and placing it next to her, she turned back to the Bronze Fury. “Now that’s what I would say is a true duel of the dragons,” she could only say before finding another rock and throwing it to the dead Hugh, which she only noticed now was steaming.

But as quickly as her feelings of triumph came, Baela felt regret and sadness. She had taken out a dragon, the symbol of her house, and because of her, House Targaryen had one less dragon to command. In just one day, three dragons had perished, which would’ve been disastrous for Aegon and his sister-wives had this happen during the Conquest. She put her head on her arms, sighing as the damage done hit her home. _My gods! What have I done?_

She didn’t look up as she heard Tessarion land, as she started to cry out of relief that she was even alive and out of despair. Then, a pair of arms were put on her shoulders, the familiar feeling of Daeron’s touch going through her senses.

Then, his arms pulled her, and his hands made her look at Daeron. “Baela! Are you okay? You hurt?” he examined her closely. “What in gods’ names were you thinking? How could you think about taking on Vermithor and Silverwing? You could’ve been killed? What if I came too late? What if—”

Baela cut him off as she pulled him into a sloppy kiss, overjoyed to see him and relieved that he was there. Daeron closed his eyes and returned the kiss, their tongues dancing with each other as they allowed their feelings to manifest for the first time in a long time.

Relief turn to pleasure, as Baela didn’t want to let go of Daeron and she fell on top of him as they both collapsed to the ground. But Daeron had to pull away, shaking his head.

“Um, Baela, perhaps we can find somewhere else to do this?” Daeron asked.

Baela slapped his face, but instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry. I’m just angry that you would say that when we were just about to—”

“No, no,” Daeron assured her. “I want to also, but maybe a cave? We’re out in the open after all.”

Baela scanned around and found a cave opening very quickly. Not going to be denied, she pulled Daeron up, dragged him by his wrist to the opening, and they both entered, leaving their dragons behind to get reacquainted with each other.

Upon entering the cave, Baela and Daeron took a moment to gaze upon each other. They were slightly covered with ash and burns from dragonfire, but for her that added to the ruggedness that she had grown to like. She heard one time that both men and women were attracted to those that reminded them of their parents, and right now, Daeron reminded her of her father in his younger years. The war must’ve also made him hardier and determined, as gone was the boy that was still training and discovering his place in the world. _How did he become such a great man?_

Baela jumped into Daeron’s arms and wrapped her legs around his torso, looking down into his eyes as she kissed them again. His legs gave in and they fell to the ground, the desire for each other reaching uncontrollable levels. She moaned as their kiss became longer, sloppier, and more desperate.

Breaking off the kiss, Baela and Daeron started to unbuckle each piece of their armor, with her mail shirt pulled off of her and his metal plates falling with a clink. He turned her around and went for the laces in her dress, his fingers impatiently untying each knot before they were all unraveled and allowing him to open her dress from behind, exposing her entire back to his feasting eyes.

Dejected that he got his hands off of her, Baela saw his shirt thrown in front of her and she turned around to see his exposed chest and abdominals. He definitely didn’t slack off during his time in Oldtown, as his training had developed him into a warrior with chiseled chest and sculpted abdomen. Seeing how much she liked it, Daeron unbuckled his breeches, almost allowing her to see his length before coming down on her again.

Baela felt an inferno rising in her as their skin touched, his lips went on her neck, and his tongue licked the length of her back. Her breath hitched and she felt her heartbeat become faster from how he worked her. Daeron turned her on her back, went for the shoulders, and pulled down her dress, exposing her still growing breasts. Baela ran her hands through his hair while he bit at her cleavage and sucked her right breast. Her moaning became louder as he moved to the other breast and then kissed his way down to her belly.

 _Is this what it feels like? Is that kepa did to my muñas when they were in bed?_ She never intended to give her maidenhood to anyone but Daeron, but she couldn’t have fathomed how… good it felt. The joy that came from riding Moondancer and the satisfaction she got when her father and Lord Cregan beat down the dragonseeds were insignificant to the bliss that she was experiencing.

Daeron pulled her dress from her legs, now showing her full bare form to him. He then totally pulled down his breeches, causing a gulp in Baela’s throat as she finally saw her love without all of the armor or the layers that he had to wear. Besides strong calves, his manhood… no words could come to her mind when her eyes gazed upon it.

Taking the initiative and wishing to taste him, Baela sat up, looped her arms around his ass, and took his length in her mouth. She had heard about this type of move from Rhaenyra and the other ladies who were not maidens and she decided to try it on. Her tongue swirling around it and her lips sucking as hard as they could, Baela’s eyes turned to the face of her love, whose eyes rolled back as waves of pleasure flowed through him. What made it more joyful was with each slide of her tongue, his cock grew harder than it already was.

Baela knew what would happen, but she wanted a taste of Daeron before he got a taste of her. Her fingers reached up and scratched his balls, causing his breath to become shaky. “My gods, how are you good at this? You sure you’re not a maiden?”

Baela scoffed. “Let’s just say that I pay attention very well.”

Daeron chuckled before his hands reached for Baela’s wrists and pinned above her head. For a moment, their eyes locked with each other’s, both of them seeing the fire that was growing between them.

Freeing one hand, Daeron adjusted his length and guided it to her entrance. Baela’s mouth opened into an “O” shape, feeling the hardness penetrate deep within her. _This is it! My maidenhead will now be his!_

Daeron took it slowly, as it was his first time too. Baela put her arms around his neck, wanting to keep his attention on her. She jerked with each insertion of his cock, pain quickly turning into gratification. But after some thrusts, she decided that she wanted more.

“Faster, Daeron! Faster!” she urged him on while wrapping her legs around his ass. As if roaring gleefully, Daeron’s smile grew wider as he complied. Soon, he was pounding into her at a furious pace. She didn’t care that they were becoming filthy from the dirt of the cave, as that was nothing to her.

As he went faster, her moans and his name on her lips grew louder. _I don’t care if they can hear me from Dorne. I cannot control it._ Daeron was filling her to the hilt and hitting the back of her cunt. She was finding her release as her legs wrapped tighter around his own while her hands gripped the dirt and her fingernails became filthy. When her walls clenched around his cock, she saw his passion and it seemed to make him lose himself. 

And every time he hit the back of her cunt, Baela dug her nails into his back and screamed his name. “Faster cousin, faster…,” she panted as the words nearly failed on her lips. Snarling at their blood relation, she felt Daeron gather up the remaining portion of his energy as he pinned his hands on the ground, as if he was nearing the limits of his strength _._ Suddenly, he took his hand out of her hair and began to play with her clit as his other hand kneaded a breast.

“Baela, oh gods, you are so…,” he couldn’t finish as his cock responded to her warm cunt and spilled ropes of his seed onto her walls. As he came, he briefly lost control of his thrusts, but recovered to keep pounding into her until he was sure he was spent for the moment. She could also see that Daeron’s breathing was shaky, as the pleasure had overwhelmed him.

Moments after giving her his seed, Daeron fell into her embrace with his face in her breasts and her hand moving through his hair. Baela could see that he was thoroughly exhausted and realized they were both drenched in sweat from their lovemaking. In fact, they were so sweaty that the ground around them had become moist.

Gathering his strength, Daeron moved his weight off Baela and flipped them both over so she was on top. Her face hovered over his own and she found herself lost in his dark, beautiful eyes.

“Was that good?” Daeron could only ask.

“Good? Good doesn’t come close to what I’ve felt. Good is like comparing each grain of sand to a mountain,” Baela played with Daeron’s nipple with her finger.

Daeron smiled in happiness. “I’m glad that I was a good lover to you.”

“Daeron, you are the only lover that I will have. No one else,” she meant it.

Baela rested here head on his chest, taking in his smell and comparing it to his scent from the hunt in the kingswood. Although their moments of love involved fire, this time had them consummate their bond to its natural conclusion. Something about the mixture of smoke, ash, and sweat made Baela want to continue their lovemaking. It might have repulsed others, but Daeron and Baela were dragons, and fire was in their blood. They didn’t care whether others saw their actions as fornication, or that the Faith might condemn them. After what Orwyle did, the Faith had no more meaning for Baela and she was going to do what she wanted. This was merely the start of her new, unshackled life free from the obligations of the made-up Seven. _And Daeron will do what he wants, which I will show him._

As Baela moved to kiss him, she caught him looking at her with sad eyes while rubbing her cheek, both of confused her. “I also think you are a great lover, the only one I will have. But I’m not sure if that can happen.”

Baela raised her head, shocked. “What do you mean?”

“As long as this war lasts, we can’t be together,” Daeron’s eyes became watery.

“Nothing will last forever,” Baela told him. “This war has to end eventually.”

“But who will win? If my brother wins, your father dies. If Nyra wins, I die. Someone has to pay the price,” Daeron was not illusioned.

But Baela shook her head. “No, it doesn’t have to be that way. If muña wins, and she will, I will ask her to let her live. Seven hells, I will get on my knees and beg if I have to do that.”

Daeron sighed, touched that she would do that but also conflicted. “I don’t want to see that, and I don’t know if I want Nyra to win. If she does, she’ll have your father at her side.”

Baela knew that Daeron and her father were not close, but she was torn between her love for Daeron and her love to kepa. “I wouldn’t so dismissive of him. You’ve done nothing to him and he to you. He has no reason to hurt you, even though I said that I will beg if needed. And what’s so wrong about him being by muña’s side? You can’t possibly think that he’s still the Rogue Prince.”

“That’s what everyone see him as, no matter what he tries to do. And for me, I don’t know if I can look at my nephew’s killer in his eyes,” Daeron admitted.

Baela narrowed her amethyst orbs. “What are you talking about?”

“There were two cutthroats that entered the Red Keep that night, their names being Blood and Cheese. The one called Blood confessed that Mysaria hired them, who in turn was working for Daemon. How could I forgive him if he was willing to kill a child, my nephew and my sister’s son?” Baela could see the pain revealing through the crack in his voice.

But Baela shook her head. “No, that’s not true. Kepa didn’t kill him.”

“He’s your father. Of course you would defend him, but nothing could change the facts.”

“Because those aren’t facts!” Baela sat up while suddenly shouting and staying on top of Daeron. Even Daeron was surprised, and she calmed down. “Someone told Blood to say that Mysaria had hired him to kill little Jaehaerys.”

“Who did?” Daeron kept his gaze at her.

“It was Maester Orwyle. He’s the one that did it.”

Daeron sat up, propping himself with his arms. “What?” he could only say.

Baela then explained everything that had happened, from Orwyle arranging for the cutthroats to kill Jaehaerys, to him and Lord Strong starting the riots in King’s Landing, and how the Citadel and Faith had been waiting until now to begin their attempted extermination of House Targaryen.

Daeron’s head vibrated, clearly processing all of her words. Baela could only place both hands on his cheeks, as the world he knew came crashing down. _He spent a good part of his life in Oldtown, not knowing that the Faith and the maesters wanted him dead all this time._

“Now that I think about it, it does explain why Ser Myles Hightower did not help me when Maelor died.”

Baela gasped. “They got Maelor?”

She could see that Daeron couldn’t say anymore, as the tears streamed down his face and was now bawling. Heartbroken at the babe she never got a chance to know, she pulled him into her embrace and they both cried together. The one good thing that they could take was that their bare forms circulated warmth, which allowed them to feel safe as the world around them got colder and darker.

“I know you’re hurting, my love. But you don’t have to keep doing that. I know about Helaena’s marriage and how Aegon abused her and Jaehaera, but she’s seeing the light and is moving on. Hearing the truth from Orwyle was what did it for her and she doesn’t hate muña and kepa as much as before. You should also see Jaehaera and little Aegon, they’re getting closer by the day.”

Daeron chuckled with her at that. But she could also see how relieved he was that not only his niece and sister were alive, but also doing very well. But it also conflicted him, as Helaena would have had the most reason to hate Daemon. _But not anymore._

She felt the thoughts flashing through his mind, but she knew that he was rethinking a great many things. She couldn’t blame him for hating her kepa, as the presence of Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, as well as his very poor relationship with the Velaryon brothers, all contributed to how Daeron was aloof of Daemon, maybe believe him to be the cruel and violent prince that everyone else saw him as. But with the new facts revealed by her and how Jaehaera and Helaena were being well-treated, everything he ever thought of his sister and his uncle were slowly becoming undone.

But Baela knew that too much thinking was bad for the mind, so she kissed him and let his mind wander to happier thoughts, which included their embrace at that moment. 

Baela didn’t know how much time had passed, but it was getting late and they were not going to leave the cave anytime soon. As they both dressed themselves and Daeron had Tessarion prepare a fire, Moondancer came back while dragging a dead goat. Rubbing her snout in thanks, Baela helped dress the prey before Daeron and Baela enjoyed their first meal together in private.

Baela’s head rested on his shoulder while her arm crossed his, and it was in that moment that she remembered her other loss. “Nettles was such a kind soul. Why did she have to die?”

Daeron ran his hand through her messy hair. “I felt the same way when Jaehaerys and Maelor died. They’ve done nothing wrong, and the world was still cruel enough to take them away.”

Baela didn’t know if she should be happy that one more thing connected the both of them, but she let out more of her sadness as Daeron brought her closer to him.

After they both finished the goat, they reentered the cave, where they resumed their lovemaking. This time, Baela took charge and rode her prince hard, just as Rhaenyra must’ve rode hers, while having Daeron squeeze her breasts with all of the strength his grip could muster. Then, he took her from behind, his cock sheathing into her back entrance while moaning against her neck and his hands still on her bosom. All throughout, Baela kept telling him to go faster and harder than the last push. And each time ended with his seed coating her insides.

But alas, all good things had to come to an end, if only for a while. Baela and Daeron both knew that they couldn’t be gone for long, as that would raise suspicions. She knew that Daeron especially couldn’t afford that from Aemond, as he was much less forgiving than her muña and kepa.

“I want you to promise me something, Daeron,” Baela said.

“Anything,” Daeron put his arms on hers.

“I’ve given you my maidenhead, meaning that I am yours and you are mine. Stay alive, Daeron, and come back to me,” Baela commanded.

Daeron nodded, her order now being easier to follow since he knew the full truth and made clear that he didn’t like any of his brothers. “When the time is right, Baela, I will. And it will be soon.”

She pulled him into a kiss again, their arms gliding over their bodies, before they separated.

As Daeron mounted Tessarion, Baela blew him one more kiss, which Daeron reciprocated, before he and the Blue Queen flew south. Taking in the silence of the mountains, she finally mounted Moondancer and flew northwards, careful to avoid coming close to either Tumbletown or the kingswood since that would cause Aemond to attack her.

After a half day of travel, King’s Landing finally appeared, but all Baela could think of was how she would break the news to her parents, as she knew that she couldn’t keep what they both did a secret forever. _And why would I?_

Nearing the Red Keep, all Baela could do was thank the gods for allowing her the time to show her love to Daeron, as she could now move on from the loss of Nettles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was probably the most intense battle scene I've written yet. Nothing beats combat like dragons going at it. But no! Nettles is dead. 
> 
> On the bright side, Daeron and Baela finally consummate their relationship after so long. Now, they have all of the reason in the world to stay alive. 
> 
> Beware what's coming in the next chapter ;)


	19. Towards a collision

Aemond woke up with Floris Baratheon at his side. Running his hand down her soft black hair, his fingers tapped on the skin of her backside. His left eye stared at the ceiling of their chambers in Storm's End, which was granted to them by her father Borros to enjoy the first few moons of their wedding.

After getting married with the blessing of House Baratheon's septon, Aemond had no illusions on what the union with Lady Floris would be like. And he told her truthfully, "Do not whisper sweet nothings to me, for I have no patience with them. Do not try to interfere with my affairs, for I will not forgive you easily. And most importantly, you will remember well that I am your husband and you are my wife. You are loyal to me and only me. Not to your father and not to your sisters, especially that bitch Maris, just myself. You will bear my children and I will compensate you for doing so, but you should expect nothing more. Do you understand?"

Floris was a sweet girl, but she lacked a serious attitude towards the important duties of someone from her house and lived life with a very light heart. To hear her husband tear down her illusions of marriage was disconcerting to her, causing her to gulp nervously.

"Do you understand, you silly girl?" Aemond was not known for his patience and he was not going to waste what little he had on her.

"Yes," Floris mustered her courage.

"Good. Now, get it in the bed," Aemond pointed to the sheets.

Aemond took command as he thrusted into Floris, causing moans to escape her mouth but it was more of a painful sort. It sounded the same as some of the women that were also in Aegon's bed when he went whoring, but Aemond was not going to concern himself with useless feelings. _Either she produces an heir, or she's useless to me._

But at the same time, after seeing her endure his exertions, a tiny part of his heart became apologetic. For example, when Floris asked to spend the rest of the day with her sisters, Aemond gave her leave to do so. Also, he granted her request to have new dresses sewn for her, as she needed to look more like a wife than a maiden.

Aemond didn't want to stew so much, for he had done enough of that ever since Lucerys took his eye. However, he was not without emotions and was thoroughly disappointed when Aegon became the pig he was while neglecting his duties to the realm. And he didn't have strong intentions of marrying Floris, but he did so because Borros Baratheon would have been slighted.

For just a brief moment, Aemond wanted to say sorry to Floris for putting her through their unhappy union. But just as quickly, he put those thoughts away, as he did promise to compensate Floris once she gave birth to an heir. _With Jaehaerys and Maelor dead, it's down to me or Daeron. I am not as confident in Daeron as I once was, so I must ensure that he never comes near the throne._

Rising up from the bed, Aemond dressed himself in his armor before placing the crown of Aegon the Conqueror on his head.

Before he left the chambers, he spared one last look to Floris, who was sleeping soundly after the exertions of last night. _She looks so peaceful. If only I had more of that._

Walking through the halls of Storm's End and experiencing the guards and household bowing to him while saying "Your Grace", Aemond wondered why he was bothering himself with soft feelings. He never allowed any to enter his mind, but they were now entering his. _Maybe because I am married, or maybe because I am tired. Whatever it is, the work will make me forget about it._

Aemond arrived at the solar of Lord Baratheon, who granted it to the Prince Regent. Looking over the dispatches of the day, he checked the ones that required his most immediate attention.

First was the report from the armies within the Reach. After Tumbleton, Lord Ormund Hightower and Tyland Lannister had to regroup after Ser Criston led his forces into their most serious defeat yet and fell back to Cider Hall. But with the riders Ulf and Hugh burning the town, the effects of their loss were somewhat mitigated and they both were able to enter the ruins of the town without resistance. _At least those bastards help us harvest some unexpected fruit._

Next came the reports from the Dornish Marches, which all say that a great dragon duel occurred which burned a portion of the Red Mountains and the locals were concerned for their welfare. Putting those aside, Aemond came upon a letter from Sunspear, written in the hand of Prince Qoren Martell. It read:

_"To Prince Regent Aemond of House Targaryen,_

_I am very concerned with how your family has been conducting themselves as of late. However you conduct your affairs is your business, but my court at Sunspear have become alarmed at how close the latest of your dragon fights had occurred close to our lands. Therefore, I formally protest against House Targaryen and beseech you to seek an end to the suffering. Otherwise, when dragons come close to Dorne's borders again, I will have no choice but to resort to drastic measures. May the gods prevent that from happening._

_From,_

_Qoren of House Martell, Prince of Dorne and Lord of Sunspear"_

Aemond crumpled the letter in rage. _The Dornish shit has the gall to demand this of me? Oh, once we win, I will fly down to Sunspear myself and burn his proud hide into ash. I don't care what others have to say._

Throwing away the letter from Sunspear into the hearth, he then read the reports from King's Landing. Although Lord Strong was dead and his network had gone silent, there were still a few who remained in the city that remained to Aegon's cause. They talked about how people were still at unease after the riots and the crackdowns that came after Rhaenyra's subordinates executed Lord Strong and the one they call the Shepherd. They also said that they saw Orwyle's head alongside the other two, which Aemond shrugged off. _If someone told me to surrender my claim, I would have killed them too._

But the dispatch that got his attention was one that talked about Criston Cole, who was removed from the Kingsguard, demoted to a hedge knight and all Cole lands forfeit to the crown, and Ser Criston himself being executed by dragonfire. Setting down the paper down on the tabletop, Aemond leaned back and closed his eyes, taking a moment to reflect on the loss of his teacher.

It was true that he owed very much to Ser Criston. If it weren't for him, he would not have become a feared wielder of the sword and not become hardened to the difficulties of life. In essence, he was the type of man that Aemond needed, when his father and young brother were too soft and his older brother a disgrace. Criston also told him of the less admirable deeds of his uncle Daemon. He had grown to worship Daemon, but once both Alicent and Criston told him what he did and what he was capable of, he became more ambivalent and that slowly turned to strong aversion.

However, at the same time, he didn't find himself missing Ser Criston all that much. Aemond had to admit that the Cole knight tended to overreach himself and was much too arrogant for his taste. And it was Ser Criston who led the attack on Rook's Rest and on Tumbleton, both of which were setbacks that they still had to recover from.

 _I still should have flied faster to Aegon, as I could have easily taken down Meleys and that old bitch,_ Aemond scolded himself. Everyone knew that with Rhaenys and Meleys being able to inflict severe damage on Aegon while flying away before Vhagar arrived, it fell to him to take on the responsibilities of ruling as Prince Regent. However, with their king wounded and thus not fully present, his standing became weaker over time and thus undermining their cause.

_Looks like when the maesters write of this time, they will have to blame myself and Criston. As they should._

Taking a breath and willing Criston's death from his mind, he refocused himself to the duties of the day. Unexpectedly, a dragon roar boomed outside. _I know that roar…_

Running outside to the ramparts, Aemond saw Tessarion guide herself down to the main yard. He climbed down the steps and saw his young brother slide off before Tessarion took off into the air again. He could hear Vhagar and Tessarion bellowing at each other in greeting again.

"Brother," Aemond addressed Daeron.

"Aemond," Daeron looked more relaxed than usual, which was strange given what he was supposed to do.

"I thought I told you to deal with the dragonseeds," Aemond admonished him.

"I did. They're dead," Daeron answered.

"Is that so?" Aemond crossed his arms, his skepticism obvious.

"I had some… unexpected help along the way," Daeron revealed.

"Help?" Daeron nodded to that. "Come with me to the solar. Explain what happened."

Back in the solar, Daeron told Aemond how he was able to take down the dragonseeds. He said that he wasn't the first to fight them, as the other dragonseeds Nettles and Addam Velaryon had already initiated combat with them. Upon seeing the brawl in the skies, he decided to watch and see how it went, and that he would pick off whoever was left.

Daeron said that Addam Velaryon was the first to die, his dragon Seasmoke being overwhelmed by Silverwing, but by some miracle, Nettles was able to overcome and kill Vermithor. That piqued Aemond's curiosity, as he was sure that the mount of Jaehaerys the Conciliator would be able to take on a wild dragon and an inexperienced rider. _Something that I might have to look closer into when I have the time._

Daeron continued, saying that Nettles and her dragon Sheepstealer had been weakened considerably from their fight with the Bronze Fury, and it didn't take long for them to be finished off by Ulf and Silverwing. Once he was left, Daeron moved in. However, unlike the other dragonseeds, Daeron claimed to have a better appreciation of the dragons and tried very hard not to kill the mount of Alysanne Targaryen. _So sentimental,_ Aemond thought dismissively.

After engaging in a fierce brawl, Daeron was able to have Tessarion breath fire onto Ulf, engulfing him with blue flames and having him fall to the earth. Meanwhile, Silverwing flew north, her destination not known to him.

Aemond tapped his fingers on the tabletop as he took in his brother's story. "So, you mean to tell me that you only won because you let the other bastards kill each other off?"

"Yes. I believe that was the smart way to do it. It's a shame that Vermithor was killed, but Silverwing lived. That leaves one more dragon alive for our house to eventually claim again," Daeron stated.

"You do not comment on what will be useful to our house. That is my job," Aemond reproached him. "And even though you were smart, your actions do not merit a lot of inspiration."

"Aemond?" Daeron was surprised by that.

"You claim to be a knight, but your latest kill can hardly be your claim. From your actions, you acted like a vulture circling around a prey and only swooping in when it was too weak to fight back," Aemond said cruelly.

"A vulture?" For the first time, Daeron was getting angry in front of Aemond.

"Knights and warriors are supposed to charge into the thick of battle, no matter the risk. Your approach to the bastard riders, along with your previous actions at Oldtown, have shattered any confidence that I had in your capabilities and gives credence to my decision in removing all of your commands."

Daeron was visibly reddening and the veins in his face bulging, the dragon rage finally emerging.

"Furthermore, you also have too delicate of a constitution to lead in this war," Aemond noticed his anger and wanted to push him, see if he could prove him wrong. "Dragons are not like men. They are assets and weapons, nothing more. That's one of the reasons why people are afraid of me, because I have Vhagar, who is just as big as Balerion was. And us riders should not be so concerned with the condition of other dragons. We can always hatch more."

Daeron was clearly bothered by how callous his brother was towards his dragon, but he kept silent, as he knew very well that he didn't like dissent.

"On the other hand, you did follow my orders and took care of the threat of the dragonseeds before it became more serious. And in the eyes of the others, you will be a hero since you were partly responsible for removing from sister's number of dragons. Just don't have any illusions on how I feel about it," Aemond emphasized.

"Oh, don't worry. Compliments do not suit you, brother," Daeron blurted out. "You were never warm to begin with."

Aemond shook his head as he scoffed. "But clear this confusion up. You only mentioned Nettles and Addam Velaryon, but my scouts reported another dragon and her rider. This dragon was as small as warhorse and there's only one dragon in Westeros that fits that description."

"Moondancer," Daeron confirmed.

"Exactly, which means our treacherous cousin Baela led the other two. Was she not there, with Nettles and Addam?" Aemond asked.

Daeron shook his head while pursing his lips. "I didn't see Moondancer or Baela when I got there. But if she was, I wouldn't expected her to last for very long against Vermithor and Silverwing."

"Might be true," Aemond accepted. "But out of the girls that came from Daemon's loins, Baela inherited her father's temperament the most. I would have expected that she would be eager to fight in battle and prove that she is of the Rogue Prince's blood."

"If she was in the duel, she might have done some damage to the other two dragons. You know how much of a fighter she can be," Daeron spoke.

"Quite," Aemond acknowledged. But for some reason, he noticed a slight change of expression in his brother's face. He knew that he had a soft spot for Baela and was sure that they developed feelings for each other ever since that hunt in the kingswood. "You seem very detached from Baela, brother. Why is that?"

Daeron exhaled heavily. "As you might have known, I did feel something for Baela. However, she's on the wrong side and I have to do what I must if we were to cross paths."

That was when Aemond knew something was off. Oldtown proved that Daeron would do anything to protect his family, but he would never harm his family if he could. And given how Daeron spoke indifferently of her despite his feelings, Aemond realized that his brother wasn't telling him everything.

But he couldn't do anymore without hard proof. _Looks like I'm going to have test his commitment._

"Well, brother, I would like you to put that sentiment into good use," Aemond stood up and got some maps laid out on the table.

"What do you mean?" Daeron asked.

"Even though we lost a good portion of our troops at Tumbleton alongside Ser Criston, our sister suffered serious losses herself. Besides the two dragonseeds betraying her, she lost Roderick Dustin, an old northman who's been causing some trouble for us as of late. As she ultimately lost four dragons due to the duel in the Red Mountains, now's our chance to retake the initiative," Aemond explained.

"How do you suggest we do that?"

"We have Ser Tyland and cousin Ormund take our troops back up the roseroad to take secure Tumbleton. Meanwhile, I will order Lady Johanna Lannister to send at least ten thousand westermen to march along the gold road and thus bypassing the defenses in the Riverlands set up by Cregan Stark," Aemond continued. "Meanwhile, I will lead Lord Borros' bannermen towards Ashford, where I will link up with Tyland and cousin Ormund and take command. From there, we will march toward the Blackwater Rush and unite with the Lannister bannermen from the gold road. From there, we can either threaten the riverlands or move further to King's Landing. They will not be able to ignore such a force for long and they will have to respond in kind."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Aemond looked back up to Daeron. "I want you to take command of the Lannister men from the gold road. I'm giving you a chance to redeem yourself and to prove what you just said. If this all works out, we will be able to regain all of the advantages when this war started."

Daeron gulped but nodded. "It will be done, brother."

"Good," Aemond said. "I can't have you near cousin Ormund for obvious reasons, but this is the best chance you have. Use it wisely."

"Shall I fly out to Casterly Rock then?" Daeron asked.

"No. I will send a raven first. I will no longer have us come to our lords. They must come to us in order to show their loyalty. You will go to Deep Den and direct Lord Lydden to gather his forces, while you wait for the other westermen to come to you. Once you have the numbers, begin the march," Aemond commanded.

"How soon will you march out?"

"A week at the most. The stormlords have suffered relatively minor damage, so they still can give me an army. I will fly out to Nightsong and assemble them before moving on to Ashford," Aemond explained.

"How do you think our sister and uncle would respond to such a force assembling?"

"If I must assume, they'll have to send Daemon back into the fight. Our sister has to remain in the capital, and I doubt Rhaenys will fight again after what she's been through. He's their only choice left," Aemond made plain his eagerness for that possibility.

"You really are looking forward to fighting him in that instance?"

Aemond chuckled. "I might have learned the basics of swordsmanship from him, but our dear mother ceased his tutoring of me before I had the chance to fully understand him. People always say that I am dangerous with a sword and showed their fear, but they always cower whenever the Rogue Prince is mentioned. This is my chance to finally see who is more deserving to be feared: myself, or our power-hungry uncle."

Daeron said nothing and remained blank. This further stumped Aemond, as he expected a more explosive reaction to Daemon's name, given that he was the one deemed responsible for little Jaehaerys' death. _What in the Seven Hells is going on there?_

"Rest tonight, brother. You earned it. But tomorrow, fly out to Deep Den."

"Yes, brother," Daeron complied before moving out of the solar.

As for Aemond, he began to imagine what the duel would be like. He smiled upon thinking of Vhagar's talons in Caraxes' neck, and her teeth crushing Daemon's torso. He also became happy at how much pain Rhaenyra would feel upon the loss of her love. _We'll also see who is superior and who can back up their talk: Nyra, or my mother._

The expectations remained as Aemond climbed back on Vhagar and flew to Nightsong, leaving behind Floris and Storm's End. As he led the stormlanders towards Ashford, he grew more impatient to fighting Daemon.

* * *

Cregan walked through the godswood of the Red Keep with Helaena at his side. After being with her while Maester Orwyle was flayed alive and his head displayed over the Gate of the Gods, she started to seek his company more.

The first time they truly got to be familiar with each other, Cregan didn't know how to properly converse with a princess. And Helaena still needed time to become used to the new changes around in the Red Keep after Rhaenyra retook it. But after treating her daughter well and asking his queen to allow Helaena to be more involved in the day-to-day tasks, she became more comfortable around me. And even though he was uncomfortable with flaying, he endured it for her and he knew that was more than anyone had ever done for her, besides her brother Daeron. _At least she had a brother to lean on, while I had no one besides Arra. But I won't let that determine what will happen between us now._

Today, Helaena wanted to learn more about the Old Gods, which the Lord of Winterfell was more than happy to oblige. Even though she had some familiarity with the worship of the Old Gods, she had only learned to worship and pray before the Seven up until that point. But with the revelations of Maester Orwyle and now the Faith and the Citadel seeking the destruction of the dragons, she had ceased her attendance to the sept and sought alternative ways for spiritual nourishment.

Of course, some things were difficult to unlearn. For instance, Helaena was confused that the old gods did not have a book even in the runes of the First Men, to which Cregan responded, "The worship of the Old Gods is almost as old as time itself. It was formed from natural settings and therefore, we don't need books to tell us how to worship those who watch over us."

"But how is it different from worshipping the Seven? You require just a heart tree, while the Faith calls for us to be in the sept. For both of us to properly revere our gods, we have to be in the presence of holy places, it seems," Helaena responded.

"That's true," Cregan admitted. "However, the weirwoods were grown from the earth and they were here long before any man walked. However, the septs you worshipped in were built by others' hands and they hand to take from the land in order to build them and they had to cut down weirwoods on many instances to construct them. In essence, they disturbed the natural order as they imposed their practices onto those that were here before."

"But how do you know if the heart trees can hear your prayers? The septs pray aloud because they want to be heard by the Seven."

"The Old Gods do not require us to be vocal. If we really have something to ask, they will know it and will consider our requests," Cregan answered. "Every time I prayed to the heart tree at Winterfell, I always felt that they listened. Makes me thankful to Brandon the Builder for planting such a big one."

She smiled. "If only more men around here could appreciate home as much as you did. I like those who want adventure, but I've yet to find those who like being where they were born. Tells me much about how beautiful Winterfell and the North would be."

"Helaena, after seeing what the North looks like, you'll understand why I never really wanted to leave," Cregan answered blissfully while thinking of his ome.

"But it looks like both the followers of the Old Gods and the Seven seem to practice bedding after wedding ceremonies," Helaena noted slyly.

Cregan was, for a moment, at a loss for words. Even though he went through the marriage rites twice and swore before the old gods to take Arra and then Alysanne, he never did fully savor the pleasure of the bedding. He was barely seven and ten when he married Arra and they didn't have much time after Rickon was born. And he needed what Lord Blackwood offered when he gave Alysanne's hand, so it wasn't enjoyable the first time. So, both women never did afford him the time he needed to savor what being with a woman felt like. In addition, the Stark modesty didn't allow him to be so reflective on such indulgences, so for Helaena to openly say that about bedding ceremonies gave him pause.

What really added to his confusion was how Helaena dressed. Cregan was still wearing his thick northern cloaks despite it not being winter, while Helaena elected to wear a bright red gown with black lining and a golden necklace. The gown hugged her slim figure, which made her look divine-like even after three pregnancies, and Cregan couldn't stop looking after her plump ass, her narrow waist, and her round bosom. It certainly didn't help that her gown left little to imagination when it came to her cleavage. She definitely noticed his stares and thought with worry, _She must think I'm just a pig like her husband._ However, she merely smirked with satisfaction. _Did she intentionally weare this?_

Cregan then realized that he had to think of something before the pause became too long. "Well, marriages have to be consummated one way or the other." They both came in front of the heart tree. "You do well to remember that without a weirwood, praying before this tree will not be as impactful."

"Do you happen to have a weirwood sapling somewhere? Might rectify the problem we have for this godswood?" Helaena asked.

"It'll do for now. I just want to show you how it's done," Cregan walked to the face of the heart tree, placed his hand on it, and closed his eyes. He prayed silently for the safety of his three children and the for the souls of his two wives, Arra and Alysanne, in the afterlife. After finishing, he stood back up.

"You try it, Helaena," Cregan gestured to the heart tree.

She slowly walked to the face of the tree, did as he did, and prayed for a long while. Cregan took a step back, respecting her space and her time. He looked up and clasped his hands together as he saw Helaena crying and breaking down. He could only imagine what she was praying about, which could be anything from her dead sons to her father, but he let her have her moment.

However, once she started bawling, Cregan moved to her and put her hands on her shoulders, just like what Helaena did with Rhaenyra. She then turned to him and pulled him into her embrace as she cried into his shoulder. He returned the hug, patting her back while allowing her to cry more. He knew very well what loss felt like and he feared that he would have to mourn his children if they died before he did. _I will not bury my children. They will bury me._

Her crying subsided, then she turned to look at Cregan in his grey eyes.

"I'm not going to say to you to forget about your son, because that will be greatest insult that I can give you as a mother, and I will condemn myself as a father," he told her. "I saw how you held Jaehaera and that's what a true mother with love would do, and how you mourn your son has shown me where your heart is. But you're not alone. I lost not one but two women in my life, and I will always care about them forever. But Jaehaera needs her mother and my children need me. So, let's cry together and let's move on. We have people who need us."

Still despondent from her praying but moved by his sincere words about his family, she pulled him into a fierce kiss. Surprised for a moment, Cregan reciprocated and it got deeper, with their tongues wrestling with each other and their arms became tighter around their bodies. As if seeking warmth inside his thick cloaks, Helaena moved her arms inside them and her hands felt the shirts closer to his torso.

For lack of breath, they had to break apart the kiss, but they rested their foreheads against each other.

"You're a really good kisser," Helaena whispered.

"I was married twice, Helaena. I had plenty of practice," Cregan replied.

Helaena chuckled. "No one has ever kissed me like that, ever."

"I can say the same for you," Cregan brought his hand to her cheek.

"I thought you were married twice."

"My first was my first love, my childhood love. But it was the first time we felt anything that serious for one another, and sadly, she died of illness," Cregan was reminded of Arra. "Then, Lord Blackwood wanted to have a hold on the North and offered Alysanne's hand in marriage. But I knew that she also had feelings for Lady Sabitha Frey, who she brought to Winterfell."

"Is that so?" Helaena was told that such bonds were forbidden to exist, and she was surprised that Cregan tolerated it.

"It was an arranged marriage and I didn't want her to suffer unduly. But despite that, I grew to care for Alysanne and she for me, especially since she bore me my two girls. Sadly, Raya was born while she died," Cregan sighed sadly.

Helaena could only imagine how much pain he felt, and the guilt Raya would have when she was old enough to understand. "I'm so sorry, Cregan."

"Some people told me that love is better the second time around, and I felt guilty when I couldn't do that for Alysanne. But for you… now I see the truth in what they said," Cregan ran his thumb across her other cheek.

"For a northman, you're such a smooth talker," Helaena liked what she was hearing.

"I had practice," Cregan told her.

He knew that her marriage to Aegon the Usurper was beyond unhappy, so he had to make sure that she would feel secure and safe, both of which she didn't have.

But as for Helaena, she saw a man that knew how to please a woman and made her feel loved. And from then on, even though she would love her sons and Jaehaera to her dying breath, she regretted ever spreading her legs to her brother, since here was a man who was far more deserving of her than anyone else.

And Helaena's mind flashed through the possibilities. If the North wasn't as isolated, had her father met Cregan, she might have married him and the pain she had to endure from Aegon might have been prevented. _My father married an Arryn, even though Aemma was his cousin, and then a Hightower, so he might have said yes to me if I wanted to marry this direwolf, my direwolf_ , she thought while looking at him with desire.

"Stay with me tonight," Helaena wanted him in her bed that night.

But Cregan shook his head. "We can't."

"Why not?" Helaena was disappointed. "I'm not a maiden anymore and you been in a woman's bed before. What's the problem?"

"You're still married to Aegon. I know that he's a brute, but it'll cause complications if we engaged in lovemaking while you're tied to him. I said I loved you, and I don't want you to suffer more trouble than you already have. However, I will sleep beside you tonight. If you want to make love to me, you should first experience how I sleep. I also should get used to your snoring, if you do that," Cregan ran his hand through her silver hair.

Helaena laughed in amusement. Even though he was acting honorably like all Starks, he was also very charming and wasn't completely denying her wants. More importantly, besides loving her, he also respected her enough to not involve her in fornication, which would be a big problem for anyone. Aegon neither loved her nor respected her, so for Cregan to do both was something that she needed to feel.

Helaena kissed him again before nodding. "Okay. Thank you for your concern. But I will make sure to have my marriage annulled with Aegon, and for you to bed me fully."

"You would do that?" Cregan was surprised by her sudden confidence in her words.

Helaena felt resolve flow through her being. "Let my pig brother-husband have his whores. I never met a man who made me more loved than you, and you are more of a man than he can ever hope to be. Once I've accomplished that, I want you with me."

"I won't say no to that," Cregan grinned as they both stood up and walked away from the godswood.

Cregan and Helaena walked through the open areas of the Red Keep, her arm wrapped around his. The guards, household, and the courtiers took notice, not expecting a princess of House Targaryen to be in an intimate gesture with the head of House Stark. For many, the Starks and the Targaryens represented completely opposite ends of the life cycle, ice and fire, and they couldn't see such elements combining ever. However, they would not understand that those two could not exist without each other. For there to be cold, there had to be hot. For hot to exist, there must be cold.

 _Prince Viserys will also show to all that fire and ice can be combined into something stronger, something that I should have understood,_ Cregan thought.

They both showed up at the small council chambers in their shared embrace. Lord Celtigar, Lord Commander Marbrand, and the Corbray brothers were very surprised. The Manderly brothers tried to suppress their pride in their lord paramount openly close to some of royal blood. Lady Mysaria and Rhaenys looked merely curious, but Rhaenyra and Daemon were very hard to read. Even though their relationship greatly improved and that they all agreed that Aegon had neglected his duties as a husband, they both didn't expect Helaena to be so close to the Warden of the North. _I'm sure that they will have many things to say to me about this,_ Cregan prepared himself.

But he was very offended by the suspicious gaze given by Lord Corlys. The head of House Velaryon was already on his bad side for openly protesting Viserys' betrothal to his daughter Sarra and for insulting him in front of Rhaenyra, but the head of House Stark already knew what the Hand of the Queen was thinking. _Oh, here comes the wolfman trying to force his designs on the throne. He's already got a betrothal with the spare, and now he's going for a former queen,_ he thought while trying his best imitation Corlys' voice. _If he says anything to me about this, someone will have to try very hard to stop me from punching his teeth out._

Fortunately, no one talked about it as both Helaena and Cregan took their seats. Judging from the air amongst the small council, they had more serious business to attend to.

"I'm glad that you could join us, my lord," Rhaenyra spoke. "You also, Helaena."

Both of them nodded.

"As we're all here, I believe that we should begin with the most pressing issue at the moment. Daemon," she turned to the Prince Consort.

"My daughter Baela was able to return safely from the duel with Ulf and Hugh, but unfortunately, Nettles and Addam Velaryon perished along with their dragons," Daemon began. "We are now down four dragons and with the burning of Tumbleton, our position has never been more precarious."

"My birds have reported that the ruins of Tumbleton have been occupied by the forces of Lord Ormund Hightower and Ser Tyland Lannister," Mysaria followed up. "But the most concerning threats against us originate from the stormlander force marching through Ashford and a fresh army of ten thousand westermen gathering at Deep Den. They'll be on the march soon and most likely take the Gold Road."

The small council murmured to each other with worry, and rightfully so. Cregan could see with the death of Lord Dustin and the casualties they suffered so far, they would be hard pressed to meet the threat that is coming.

"But that's not all," Ser Lorent added. "We have also confirmed reports that Aemond himself is leading the force from the stormlands atop of Vhagar, while Daeron is leading the westermen while flying on Tessarion."

Cregan's eyes widened, as did the others. Aemond was already a serious threat by himself, since he could easily overwhelm the other three dragons with the mount of Visenya Targaryen. Coupled with Daeron and the Blue Queen, they were now in a very tight spot and King's Landing was in danger.

"Given the numbers involved, their best option is to combine their forces into one and with their numbers, they can pose a severe danger against either the capital or against our forces in the riverlands," Ser Torrhen figured out.

"Your conclusion is the same as ours, Ser Torrhen," Daemon stated. "And so, our best hope is not to allow that to happen. We have to deal with them in piecemeal before they become too threatening."

"Your Grace, in that instance, we must deal with the forces coming from the Reach," Ser Corwyn Corbray joined in. "Even through Ser Criston lost, they still wield a lot of power from their numbers alone. If we can stop them, we can then deal with the Lannisters."

"But that would mean a fight with Aemond," Rhaenys pointed out. "I was able to escape from his grasp at Rook's Rest by not fighting him. But if we seek battle with him, we are most likely to suffer heavy casualties."

"Then what about the westermen?" Lord Corlys suggested. "It might be ten thousand, but they are small in number. And we might have a chance against Daeron and the Blue Queen."

"That will expose our southern flank to the other force, Lord Hand," Cregan said. "Significant parts of the gold road run through the northern reach, which is very likely to see the presence of Aemond's Reachmen and stormlander army. We might have a chance against Daeron, but this could be what Aemond is seeking: us to against the smaller force and distracting us long enough to attack us with his main army. We'll be eliminated in the second coming of the Field of Fire."

"Maybe not necessarily," Ser Robb Rivers made his presence known. Ever since Tumbleton, he was granted a temporary position on the small council. "We still have many troops that could be used against the enemy in this case."

"Wouldn't that expose the riverlands to the rest of the Lannister forces again?" Ser Corwyn asked.

"It's been quiet along the western mountains and we have had sufficient time to recover," Ser Robb answered. "If you allow me, I will send a message to both Raventree Hall and to Riverrun, requesting them to assemble as many of their bannermen as they could afford without compromising their defenses. It should be enough to match the Lannister force that will march down the gold road."

"Who would you trust to lead such an army?" Daemon asked.

"Daemon," Rhaenys turned to her goodson. "May I suggest we send a raven to Harrenhal and have Benjen Stark take command?"

"Lord Cregan's cousin?"

"My lord, am I correct in believing that Lord Benjen has acquitted himself well as the intermediary between us and the rest of the riverlords?" Rhaenys asked Cregan.

"Yes, Your Grace. He has proven himself an able overseer of the castle and has done well to keep the peace. But I'm not sure if he is ready to command an army," Cregan made clear his skepticism.

"You would think that, considering that his father, your uncle, tried to usurp you?" Corlys sneered.

Before Cregan could respond, Rhaenyra scolded her goodfather. "My lord! Now is not the time for petty squabbles. Apologize to Lord Stark."

Lord Corlys seethed, but he was in no position to refuse Rhaenyra's command. "My apologies, Lord Stark."

Cregan nodded, but he knew that it was insincere.

"My lord," Rhaenyra turned to Cregan. "Inform your cousin. Tell him of what he needs to do."

"Yes, Your Grace," Cregan acknowledged.

"But there is no guarantee that Lord Benjen will hold them off," Lord Marbrand said. "If he manages to engage them, he won't last unless he has more men and a dragon to protect him. If we go out to meet Daeron ourselves or if we try to do battle with Aemond's army, the same problem faces us."

"So, in any case, we'll have to use dragons to fight other dragons," Rhaenys noted with some resignation. "If that is the case, I volunteer myself."

"No, goodmother," Rhaenyra shook her head. "You still need to recuperate."

"It will be for nothing if we lose," Rhaenys answered. "All of you should be astute enough to understand that this is probably the decisive moment of this war. Two dragons of our enemies and two armies coming to attack us. We need to have our own dragons on this."

"If that's the case, goodmother," Daemon rejoined. "Then… I appoint myself to lead the force that will face Aemond."

"Daemon, what are you doing?" Rhaenyra was shocked, as were the rest of the council.

"All of you don't know Aemond like I do," Daemon explained. "I trained him and I have a good grasp of his personality. And I know that he wants nothing more than to see who is better, because he saw himself as living in my shadow. If I were to fly in the air on Caraxes, he would come after me without hesitation."

"I must protest this decision, Your Grace," Ser Torrhen exclaimed. "This is an unwise course of action and you will most likely perish or be severely injured should you face Aemond head on."

"Are you questioning my battle skills, Ser Torrhen?" Daemon turned to the younger of the Manderly brothers.

"Daemon, this is not a matter of who could emerge victorious," Lord Corlys was also stunned. "You are the father of my granddaughters and of four princes and princesses of the realm, with the fourth one on the way. You need to be in the best condition possible to help steer these lands to where they should be after this war is over and fighting Aemond will prevent that."

"Do you doubt Rhaenyra's ability to rule, goodfather?" Daemon asked pointedly. "She is your queen, and your concerns for the future should be with her."

"Daemon, there must be another way," Rhaenyra was getting anxious.

"If we allow Aemond to continue to fly free, we'll never be safe," Daemon put his hand on Rhaenyra's cheek. "And I know that he won't miss the chance to fight me. I have to do this, or our children will never know peace."

Rhaenyra was shaking in worry, but she slowly understood his reasoning and nodded her head. However, she still didn't like it.

As for Helaena, she didn't like the idea of her uncle and brother fighting each other, but she recognized that Aemond couldn't be reasoned with and that there was no other way for this to end. "If I may, uncle," she stood up. "Allow me to help you all. Baela told us that Silverwing was still alive, so let me find her. I will claim her and fly to you as soon as I can."

The council, and Cregan, were astonished at her suddenly offering to help. "Why would you do that?" Rhaenyra asked.

"I will be frank with you all. I don't want to fight Aemond and this war should've never started. However, I also know my brothers well and they'll never give up. You need all the help you can get and three dragons still protecting King's Landing is better than two," Helaena noted.

The small council turned to each other, seriously considering her request. Cregan looked to her, respecting her decision but he was also worried for her safety, as no one knew where to look for Silverwing.

For Rhaenyra, Rhaenys, and Daemon, they looked at Helaena with new eyes and they looked grateful for her offer.

"If we accept, where would you find Silverwing?" Rhaenys inquired.

"I'll try Dragonstone first. After all, that's probably the only place left since she was there before Ulf claimed her," Helaena explained.

Rhaenyra nodded. "All right. You have my leave. Goodmother, ride her to Dragonstone on the back of Meleys."

"Yes, gooddaughter," Rhaenys bowed her head.

Rhaenyra hugged Helaena and clasped her arms. "Be careful… sister."

"You be careful," Helaena smiled back.

As the rest of the small council filed out of the chambers, Cregan and Helaena were left with Rhaenyra, Daemon, Rhaenys, and Corlys.

"So… you two have feelings for each other?" Daemon asked with a guarded skepticism.

Cregan bobbed his head. "Yes, Prince Daemon. They say that love is better the next time around, and Helaena proved it to me."

"Oh, we're calling each by our names now, are we?" Corlys scoffed, but Rhaenys shot him an angry look.

"Helaena, tell me truthfully," Rhaenyra asked her sister. "Do you love Lord Stark?"

"Yes, I do," Helaena affirmed.

"Helaena, you do understand that this is a serious matter? This will be the first time a Stark married into our house and you both have children. I don't need to remind you of how complicated that can be."

Helaena's memories of their strained family relations came back, but she pushed them aside. "Well, Nyra, sometimes the bad memories can be lessons, and I have learned much since we were children. I'm sure that whatever problems our family had won't be repeated in the family I wish to make with Lord Stark."

Rhaenyra thought about it, her eyes scanning her sister's, before nodding in satisfaction. "Then I shall have Maester Gerardys write a decree that officially dissolves your marriage to Aegon, the reasons being abandonment and disloyalty on his part. I will gladly stamp my seal on it," she declared, causing Helaena to return the hug. "And if you want to marry him, I will also approve the match, but only after this war is done."

"That's fair," Helaena replied.

"Lord Stark," Daemon approached them both. "You've done much for us and I am willing to accept the betrothal between your daughter and my son Viserys. However, this is different and there will be those that would say that you want power on the throne, concerns that my goodfather was kind enough to raise up."

Lord Corlys groaned at the jab.

"My ancestors made a mistake in not being more involved in the south, Prince Daemon," Cregan answered. "And I plan to rectify that. But what I have with Helaena has nothing to do with politics. I never had the chance to experience what love was like with Arra Norrey and Alysanne Blackwood and I wish I could turn back time and gave them what they deserved. But I have the chance again and I don't want to waste it," he put her hands on Helaena's shoulders. "And she will know love. I promise you that."

"You willing to be Jaehaera's stepfather? Aegon was never a father to her, but he did sire her. You think you are up for the task?" Daemon had to ask.

"I have three children to care for, Prince Daemon. Two of them are girls. I would be neglecting my duties as a father to them if I will not treat Jaehaera as one of my own," Cregan affirmed.

Daemon looked at Cregan and Helaena up and down. He had been in a similar situation as the head of House Stark and he had to endure more serious conflicts for his love to Rhaenyra. But Cregan's answers assured him that he was up for the task of taking care of Helaena despite the baggage she carried. "Then… you better treat her well," Daemon commanded him while nodding. "She's been through much and she doesn't need another man who will cause her more pain."

"You have my word, Prince Daemon, on my honor as a Stark," Cregan promised.

"But Lord Cregan, will you lead your men in the upcoming battle? The northmen need to see their Warden of the North," Rhaenys asked.

"Of course, Your Grace," Cregan nodded.

"Then, we are settled," Rhaenyra kissed Helaena on the cheek before hugging Cregan, surprising him. But Corlys continued to give him a scathing glare, which Cregan was more than happy to return.

Cregan watched in the Red Keep's yard, as Helaena climbed onto Meleys' back and grabbed Rhaenys. They shared one more kiss. "Be careful, Cregan," she urged him.

"I know you will be," he answered. "I'm sure Silverwing will accept you like she did Alysanne."

Helaena blushed under his compliment. "When I come back, I will not leave your side, like she did with Jaehaerys. Also, don't you dare die and wait for me when I get back. Or I would be sad to lose my bedmate."

Cregan cracked a smile before Meleys roared and jumped in the air, her destination being Dragonstone. He then prepared himself for the march, tying Ice to his back and consulting with his commanders while sending a raven to Benjen at Harrenhal.

 _Gods of our fathers, please protect us. This is the final battle and only some of us are guaranteed to come back. Please allow me to see Helaena again, for she would allow me to heal from when Arra and Alysanne both died before their time,_ Cregan prayed.

Cregan was at the head of the combined army of northmen and Valemen, thirty thousand in total, as they marched through the Lion's Gate and onto the gold road. With two forces about to encircle the westermen under the leadership of Prince Daeron, Aemond would have to meet them head on, with their destination being near the Gods Eye on the Blackwater Rush. He looked up and saw Caraxes fly above them, proving both protection and guidance.

"Stay safe, Daemon," Cregan said to him, hoping he heard him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aemond being rough with Floris is something that I abhor greatly. 
> 
> However, Cregan and Helaena have finally done it, although they still need to go through a few more hoops. 
> 
> And oh man, the duel of the Gods Eye is next. 


	20. Duel above the Gods Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. How you all been?
> 
> And here we are, the climax of the Dance. Enjoy!

Daemon watched as the battle unfolded below him, a sea of blood and a chorus of screams, cries, and metal clangs ripping through the once peaceful forests of the Gods Eye's southern shore. Even atop Caraxes, he could make out the banners of Stark, Corbray, Manderly, Blackwood, Tully, Dustin, and Royce among others, while he could identify the banners of Hightower, Baratheon, Tyrell, Rowan, Peake, Caron, Dondarrion, and Roxton out of the others in the opposing army. It was a battle that exceeded even the Field of Fire fought and won by his ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, and he knew that whoever wins would effectively swing the war towards their favor. _Whatever happens, please protect Nyra and my family,_ he prayed to the gods of old Valyria, which he became familiar with while he was abroad, knowing that if they lost, his children would be in danger.

Cregan had led the army of thirty thousand northmen and Valemen out of King's Landing and then the crownlands along the gold road, trying to prevent the Reach and stormlander army under Aemond from uniting the ten thousand westermen led by Daeron. Meanwhile, Cregan's cousin Benjen Stark, who by this point was the unofficial caretaker of Harrenhal, had sent ravens to Raventree Hall, Riverrun, Seagard, and the Twins alongside other castles, telling them to send as many troops as they could spare with the utmost haste. The result was Benjen Stark being able to scrounge up an army of twelve thousand rivermen, with Benjicot Blackwood and Elmo Tully serving alongside him as senior commanders. _That's enough to hold Daeron and the westermen._

And more good news came. Although ten thousand westermen were sighted at Deep Den, they were moving incredibly slow, which made Daemon think that there was something else going on. _Maybe the men of the west are getting exhausted in this way, just like the rest of us. If they continue their pace, we won't have to deal with them,_ he assessed.

Upon hearing of the upcoming battle, Baela volunteered herself to protect the rivermen under Benjen Stark's command atop Moondancer.

"You sure you are up for the task, Baela? You have been through quite the ordeal and I don't want you to push yourself?" Daemon asked with concern.

"It's all right, kepa. And I think that I am beginning to understand why you became a great warrior," Baela assured him.

"Oh, really? What did you come up with?" Daemon was interested.

"When I was flying through the air on Moondancer and fighting for my life against Ulf and Hugh, something inside me was aroused. Of course, I was afraid, but more than that, I felt a huge rush from fighting them. Even though I never flew Moondancer into battle before, I didn't hesitate in throwing myself against Vermithor and then Silverwing. The fear became something else, something that didn't make me afraid anymore," Baela explained.

Daemon knew exactly what she was talking about and could only smile in pride. "It looks like you're a true dragonrider after all," he rubbed her head and pulled her in for a hug. "What you felt, only those who can ride dragons can understand. And you have taken the first real step into a world only dragons can live in. I'm so proud of you."

He could hear his daughter chuckle and feel her smile, which only made him hug her tigher.

With Rhaenys still at Dragonstone with Helaena as they both tried to find and tame Silverwing, that left only Caraxes, Syrax, and Moondancer. After hugging Rhaena, Shiera, Jaehaera, and little Aegon, she flew off towards Harrenhal.

But even with the westermen unlikely to join with their allies further south, the army under Daemon's and Cregan's command were still outnumbered. Marching towards them was about forty-five thousand troops from most of the Reach, the stormlands, and the westermen who had already moved to Highgarden under Tyland Lannister. Even though they only had one dragon to protect them, that dragon was Vhagar and Daemon knew for certain that Caraxes would not last long against her.

Thinking about Vhagar pained Daemon, as he remembered touching her snout and feeling her breath as a child, while his father Baelon was still alive. Thinking about Vhagar also reminded him of Laena, the mother of his two daughters, and he almost slipped back into grief thinking about the woman who made him behave as a father should. And to see him fight not just his father's and his wife's former mount, but also the mount of Visenya Targaryen… _If only we weren't so petty, this war wouldn't have happened. But whatever happens, this war will end one way or the other._

After advancing on the gold road, both Daemon and Cregan concluded that the most likely site of the clash between the armies would be the southern shore of the Gods Eye, specifically an area of the tributary feeding into the Blackwater Rush that was covered with forest, marshes, and low hills. However, their situation got more complicated when their scouts discovered that the town directly next to the Gods Eye was already occupied by the advance force of Aemond's army. Besides having a holdfast, that town was located on a hill that gave a commanding view of the southern shores of the Gods Eye for miles around.

This was discussed in the war council the day before. "Not only do they outnumber us, they have the high ground and they just need to wait," Cregan said.

"Wait for what?" Ser Robb Rivers asked.

"Even though we have twelve thousand rivermen under the command of my daughter, Benjen Stark, Benjicot Blackwood, and Elmo Tully going to cut off Daeron and his force of westermen, we cannot be certain that they will be able to hold them back long enough. And Tessarion is a much bigger dragon than Moondancer, so the odds are against them over there," Daemon had to be honest with himself.

"If they manage to unite their forces with the one already in that town either by marching unimpeded or breaking through our rivermen reinforcements, all of the southern riverlands will be in danger of being overrun and we'll be the only ones standing between them and King's Landing," Corwyn stated. "It is imperative that we inflict enough damage on Aemond's force by doing battle as soon as possible."

"They're not going to leave that town for the same reasons that you all have listed," Ser Torrhen added. "And a direct assault will result in high casualties. So, we have to find a way to lure them away from the town and onto more level ground."

"That's easier said than done, Ser Torrhen," Ser Robb responded. "By now, our enemies will have gained a good understanding of how we fight as much as we have. They're not going to fall for the same tricks twice and they will not budge if they enjoy the advantageous position."

As stated before, everyone knew that this was the decisive moment of the war and the outcome of this battle would determine the fortunes of everyone in that tent. Besides Daemon, Cregan had the most to lose out of anyone who fought for Rhaenyra. And that was why Daemon knew he could trust him, especially with command of the armies.

"If I may," Lord Reed made his presence known. "Perhaps there is a solution to our quandary."

"What do you have in mind, Lord Reed?" Daemon addressed the leader of the crannogmen.

"My people were born in swamps and we were able to protect ourselves from all enemies for centuries because of our ability to move along the water. We might not have the largest force among you lot, but we do know how to use our numbers to great effect in our home territory," Lord Reed outlined.

"Lord Reed, the crannogmen's valor and skill are both well-recorded," Corwyn replied. "But why do you bring that up?"

"This area is filled with marshes and there's only one people this far south who can utilize the marshes with ease," Lord Reed stated.

Daemon understood his meaning. "So, what is exactly your plan then?"

"I suggest that myself and the men of the Neck lead a select force through the swamps to bypass their forward defenses and attack their rear and their flank," Lord Reed traced his finger on the map. "They're not going to expect an attack from the marshes, and we will catch them by surprise."

"I would be cautious in using your people in this manner, Lord Reed," Ser Willem Royce told him. "The enemy would most likely remember your actions at the Wendwater and would most likely guard against any attack from the forest."

"That's why I said the marshes, Ser Willem," Lord Reed answered. "I agree that the tree line would most likely be blocked, but they won't predict a force to move through the marshes for obvious reasons. If we want to dislodge our enemy from the holdfast on the hill and have a chance at winning, I believe this is the only option we could take."

Daemon looked at the maps carefully and indeed saw that there was no other choice. "And while the crannogmen lead part of our troops through the marshes, we trick them into thinking that we'll assault directly and thus buying time. When their flanks are attacked, that's when the true battle will start," Cregan spoke.

"Even if all of that works, we're forgetting that all of that could be undone once Aemond shows up," Corwyn pointed out. "If he flies down on Vhagar, it's all over."

"You make a good point, Ser Corwyn," Daemon nodded. "But when that happens, I will fight him. I will hold him off so that he won't get the rest of you."

"With respect, Your Grace, how do you intend to do that?" Ser Corwyn questioned. "You have proven yourself many times and Caraxes is an able dragon, but this is Vhagar we are talking about. It didn't take Balerion more than a few moments to kill Quicksilver when Maegor killed his nephew."

"Ser Corwyn, I would have thought that you had more faith in Prince Daemon. Aemond might ride Vhagar, but this war is the first time he has commanded armies. And if the Wendwater is any indication, he's willing to burn his own men. You really think that anyone would want to fight under him?" Cregan defended Daemon.

"I'm merely stating facts, Lord Cregan. After everything that has happened and with four dragons no longer flying on our side, our position is more precarious. I do not wish for Prince Daemon to be another corpse in the ground," Corwyn expressed his worry.

"You don't have to worry about that, Ser Corwyn," Daemon shook his head. "I plan on living some more years. I will not leave my children, which includes the unborn child inside the Queen, without their father."

All of the commanders were surprised at that announcement, as this was the first time that they had hear about the queen's new pregnancy. All except Cregan. "So, you see, my lords, Prince Daemon has another reason to stay alive. And he wouldn't do this if he had nothing to fight for."

Ser Corwyn stepped back, satisfied with the answer Cregan gave as was everyone else.

"Onto another matter, Lord Cregan," Willem Royce joined in again. "You sure you can trust your cousin to do what he must? You said so before. He's never led an army and was merely an over-glorified caretaker until now."

"He has proved very loyal to me and to our cause, Ser Willem. And it's because he shares my blood and that I showed mercy to his father, my uncle, is why I can trust him," Cregan answered. "Also, he's a northman, not a riverlord, which is what we need given how volatile the situation in the riverlands still is."

Ser Willem conceded his point.

"Lord Reed, prepare your name and select which men to take with you through the marshes," Daemon ordered. "Be ready to leave by the hour of the wolf."

"Understood," Lord Reed went to carry out his order.

"Rest of you, prepare for tomorrow. Make peace with either the old gods or the new and ensure that you get enough sleep. Tomorrow is the day that will decide everything, so you have to keep your wits about you all," Daemon stated before he dismissed them.

Only he and Cregan were left in the tent. Given all of the things that happened between them so far, Daemon felt at ease in the presence of the Warden of the North, soon to be part of his extended family. He let out a breath that he didn't know he had and put his hands on the table, trying to catch himself before he collapsed to the floor. _If I have to be honest with myself, I'm very afraid of what will happen._

"Are you all right, Prince Daemon?" Cregan asked.

"No," Daemon admitted.

Cregan nodded in understanding. "I understand the feeling."

"Do you now?" Daemon whipped around to face him. "If I die or if we lose, my children, my wife, my goodmother, everyone that I have ever loved will die. You don't know Aemond like I do, and I know he will not be satisfied with my death. He's the type to rub insult on injuries and he has no compunction in killing his own blood. So, I don't think you really understand what I am feeling now."

"I do, really," Cregan responded. "I trust what you say on Aemond and from what I had heard of him, I can only imagine the lengths of his vindictiveness. If we lose, he's not going to stop with your family, Prince Daemon. Since I am the one who's helped you and your family the most, he's going to come after me and will kill my children and burn Winterfell to the ground. I might have declared for your wife out of honor, but I have gone too far to stop now. So, yes, I do understand what you feel."

Daemon noticed something else. "Not just your children. Helaena will be at risk."

Cregan bit his lip in worry. "I lost my first wife after only a year and she gave me Rickon. I wish I loved Alysanne as much as I did Arra, but I grew fond of her and she gave me two beautiful daughters. And I said to you before. I love Helaena and I want to give her the love that she didn't have. If Aemond dies, I won't be able to do that, and I will not lose my chance again."

Daemon blinked, surprised. He didn't consider the hard northman a romantic, but he also saw how genuine his feelings for Helaena are. Besides his children, he had another woman to look after and he wasn't going to leave her behind, just like he was.

Daemon cracked a smile add said, "Looks like we both have dragons to come back to after this. And now that I think about it, I never told you about why I fell for Rhaenyra."

"You don't have to tell me now, Prince Daemon," Cregan replied.

"No, no. I might not have another chance and if you are to be family, you might as well know," Daemon insisted. "I was a young man and I wasn't satisfied with my place in life. I sought any way that I could to move myself up, even trying to go after Rhaenyra while she was barely a woman grown. However, whether it be divine intervention or people scheming, that didn't work. And… good thing it did, because I married Laena and she made me grow up. And when I saw Rhaenyra again, I didn't go after because saw her as my way to power. I realized that I really loved her, and I just needed more time to really understand what that was. There are certain things that cannot be explained by logic which still make you go after things despite all of the obstacles. And that's what I felt with her. It seems as if you understand that."

But as he looked at Cregan, who listened closely, another thought came to his mind. "You know, if you marry her, you will have to deal with Alicent Hightower. Like with Aemond, you don't know her like I do," he warned.

"You're right," Cregan admitted. "I don't, but that won't matter. If we win, she won't be as threatening as before and if she really cared about her children, she'll have to accept the new circumstances. She lost a grandson and her sons are continually at risk. If this war hasn't taught her anything about having family fight each other, then that's on her. At the same time, she is still Helaena's mother and I will treat as well as any goodmother. Whether she accepts it is also on her."

"You willing to stand by those words? No one will assume a burden as large as yours."

"I'm here now, Prince Daemon. My word is good," Cregan shrugged.

Daemon put his hand out, gesturing for Cregan to shake it. "Promise one thing, Lord Cregan," he pulled him closer.

"What?"

"I know that there is a possibility that I might be incapacitated or killed by Aemond. I'm not blind as to my chances of survival. But if either happens, you take command of the army. You keep fighting and you try your best to win," Daemon ordered.

"As you wish," Cregan nodded with resolve.

"On the off-chance that I am still alive, or my body can be recovered intact, don't celebrate, for this war is hardly an occasion to remember with feasts," Daemon added.

Cregan laughed. "You're asking the wrong man if you think that I indulge myself with festivities."

Daemon chuckled. "One more thing. Stay alive, for Helaena. I have not been a good uncle to her, and I wish I had that time back. But she's been unhappy, and you seem the best chance for her to be happy for once. If you die, just know that there are many in my family who will not forgive you for leaving her behind."

Cregan swallowed before nodding again. "You have my word, Prince Daemon. I'll stay alive for her."

"Good man. Now, we have a battle to fight. Get some rest."

That morning, Daemon strapped on his best armor, tied Dark Sister to his waist, and took a moment with Caraxes. He never had the chance to know his uncle well, the first rider of the Blood Wyrm, but every time he rode him, he knew that he had a lot to live up to, not just the example his father laid down.

 _Boy, I'm afraid, like the other times,_ Daemon told him.

 _There can be no courage without fear. You know that,_ he heard Caraxes answer. _Your uncle knew that too and that was why he was remembered._

 _I don't know if we can fight Vhagar. She's too big for you,_ Daemon revealed his fears.

 _I don't want to fight her too. But as long as Aemond lives, none of us will be safe. I will do what I can to fight her off, but you also have to do your part in fighting Aemond. The boy that you knew once is gone, so you have to kill him,_ Caraxes told him.

Daemon sighed in distress. However, he knew that Caraxes was right. Mounting her and grabbing her spines, Daemon took another deep breath. _Ready?_

 _Always,_ Caraxes roared back.

"Sovegon!" He called out as Caraxes took to the air as the first light of dawn broke through the shores of the Gods Eye.

As Daemon observed the carnage below, he could see that the crannogmen's move had worked. After moving through the marshes largely undetected, they had emerged onto their flanks and their rear. Meanwhile, whatever taunts were thrown from the northmen and Valemen towards the Reachmen and stormlanders must've been too much for them to handle, as they charged onto the level ground. The formations held under the weight of the combined charge, as the northmen and Vale foot used their pikes and shields to blunt their momentum while the northern and Vale cavalry engaged with the enemy horse. The plains around the river started to stain with the blood from both sides, as whoever was in command of the Reachmen and stormlanders on the ground tried to protect their main force by extending their lines. _If they keep doing that, they will not be able to hold back against the attack on all sides._

But for now, the battle would be determined by who could last the longest from intense hand-to-hand combat. Over seventy thousand troops were involved on this field, more than the Field of Fire, and there was no turning back.

For Daemon, once he saw that their plan had achieved its initial purpose, he scanned the skies around him and Caraxes. If Aemond and Vhagar showed up and burned the formations, it would be over, as her orange flames would rival the effect that the Field of Fire had on Loren the Last. As the only dragonrider fighting for Rhaenyra, he had to prevent Aemond from doing that.

"Come on, nephew. Where are you? I know you're out here somewhere," Daemon said aloud, hoping that he could hear him.

Remembering something, he turned around and looked at the sun. Squinting his eyes, something large emerged from the sun rays. As its wings unfolded and its mouth opened, Daemon's eyes widened. "It's Vhagar! Evade!" he shouted to Caraxes.

Acting quickly, the Blood Wyrm banked sharply to the left while Daemon grabbed onto her spines tightly, narrowly avoiding Vhagar's talons.

Vhagar roared in frustration, denied an easy kill, and Daemon knew that Vhagar would now be angry for being inconvenienced. The two dragons circled each other, their wings swapping away the clouds as the air whipped against his and Aemond's faces.

Daemon looked at Aemond, who glared at him with pure hatred. Knowing each other very well, they only needed to look into their eyes to see what was in their thoughts.

 _Aemond, I know much has changed between us, but I don't want to fight you. It doesn't have to end this way,_ Daemon pleaded through his thoughts.

 _Oh, uncle. Much has indeed changed between us. But you chose your path and I chose mine. I can beat you,_ Aemond responded.

_Aemond, we can still avoid it. If we fight, none of us will walk away with our lives._

_So be it. I stopped caring ever since Lucerys took my eye. Seems you are not the Rogue Prince anymore._

Resolving himself to the fight, Daemon had Caraxes turn more sharply than Vhagar, allowing them both to fly closer to her. She slammed into Vhagar, locking her jaws on Vhagar's neck as she let out a shriek. But by chance, she used her jaws to grab onto Caraxes' tail and force her off of her neck. Daemon felt a violent jerk as he and Caraxes struggled to regain their stability in the air. And the roars from the dragons, as loud as they were, were mere echoes for what was to come.

As soon as they did, Vhagar came onto her and used her talons to try to grab onto her wings. Even though the Blood Wyrm was the smallest of the two, she was more agile and used his wings to strike Vhagar's head, stunning her just long enough to avoid her attempting at grabbing.

To put more distance between them both, Caraxes released a stream of dragonfire onto her chest, pushing her away while causing her to feel stinging. In retaliation, Vhagar opened her mouth and tried to burn the Blood Wyrm with her more powerful fire, some of which got onto his tail and the tip of his left wing. Caraxes screamed, but she managed to fly underneath Vhagar and in the opposite direction. Daemon had to duck, but he swore that he felt some of his hair push by Vhagar's belly.

Both dragons turned towards each other, trying to be the faster one to attack. Daemon felt himself being pushed downward from the force of the turns, as if someone was placing much weight on his shoulders in a deliberate effort to keep him from standing up. But as Caraxes faced Vhagar, she and Daemon realized that they were in a spot where both of them would be killed quickly. If they continued to fly straight, they would collide with Vhagar, which would result in her being in a good position to bite them both and rip them apart or unleash her flames on them. If they dived, Vhagar would simply follow them and she would catch up quickly due to her larger size granting her greater momentum.

"Climb! Climb!" Daemon shouted after thinking quickly. Seeing what Daemon was thinking, Caraxes flew upwards at a steep angle with all of her might. Her rider's legs almost slipping off from the sheer slant while his muscles in his shoulders and back strained from holding onto the spines, Daemon looked downwards and saw Vhagar climbing after them. "Faster, faster!"

It was now a struggle in the vertical, as the two dragons were attempting to outdo each other in the area of endurance. When it came to fights in the horizontal or in the descent, the bigger dragon would always come out on top. But size would turn against the bigger creature when they had to go straight up, which Daemon and Caraxes were counting on. Caraxes was flying for her life, which took them past the clouds and further into the deep blue sky. Daemon felt moisture on his face as they passed through them, and momentarily had his vision blanketed in white mist.

Daemon breathed, but he felt himself struggling the higher they went. He had never been at these altitudes before, only fly far enough from the ground to rain fire on his enemies but also giving some range from enemy missiles. The air became thinner and he breathed faster and more deeply. His lungs strained from how the air thinness and Daemon felt his heart pumping more blood, as he started to feel lighter. His vision became blacker and his fingers started to sting from how colder it got with each higher altitude.

 _I don't… know… how much… longer,_ Daemon struggled to think. His grip was slowly being released, his eyes and breathing were becoming dangerously affected as Caraxes climbed even higher, and he didn't even notice that ice was forming on his armor and Dark Sister.

But at the moment, Daemon glanced downwards and saw Vhagar was much further away than when they first went into the vertical. Her larger size made her expend more energy to keep up, and he could see that Aemond was struggling as he was to keep his hands on her spines and breath normally. Eventually, Vhagar tried to compensate for her falling behind by releasing her orange flames, but they failed to even get close to Caraxes, as the altitudes also affected her, and she began to feel as if a thousand knives were stabbing on her insides. Conversely, Caraxes' smaller size allowed her to last much longer in his climb.

With her energy dangerously low and seeing the futility of trying to burn Caraxes, Vhagar stalled and she allowed herself to descend past the clouds. Upon seeing that they had triumphed in the vertical and sensing Daemon was close to blacking out and letting go of his grip, she leveled out and then dove down to just above the clouds. Daemon got himself fully seated again and he caught his breath, swallowing and inhaling deeply as he dusted off the ice that formed on his armor and Dark Sister. He wheezed and felt his eyes watering.

"Let's not do that again," Daemon managed. "But thanks!"

Caraxes roared in response, but they both knew that the fight was far from over.

Suddenly, Vhagar popped back through the clouds and slammed her head on Caraxes' underside, with the Blood Wyrm reacting quickly by flying back through the clouds. The battle was still raging beneath them, but Daemon could see that the Reachmen and stormlander force was slowly cracking and saw that a reserve force of northmen and Valemen cavalry had reformed and collided with the enemy line. _Just a few more moments. We cannot allow Vhagar to burn them,_ Daemon thought.

Now really pissed, Vhagar just flew after Caraxes and tried to burn her with her fire. With his senses returning, Daemon took in the familiar smell of her fire, the ones she unleashed whenever his father and Laena took her to the air. Looking behind, he now could remember that her fire was hot enough to evaporate clouds, as every time she missed Caraxes, it touched them and disappeared. Courtesy of his armor being a good conductor of heat, Daemon felt his back become warmer from Vhagar's attempts to turn them both into ash. If one looked up and saw the fight, it would have seemed as the sky was aflame.

And what Caraxes was trying to do was tire her, making it easier for her to tackle Vhagar when they had to. Dragons didn't have infinite energy and even the Blood Wyrm began to feel the strain from all of the twists and turns through the air. Not to mention Daemon, who was no longer a young man and felt himself close to vomiting from the force he had to endure.

Before he couldn't maneuver as tightly as before, Daemon had Caraxes glance up and open her wings, slamming his head into his she-dragon's neck. Vhagar was too late to respond and she flew past him, as Caraxes used her wings to stop and climb up just slightly to allow her and Daemon to get behind Vhagar and Aemond.

 _You have nothing to prove! What would your father say if he saw us like this?_ Daemon tried to reach out to him again

 _Don't give me that bullshit. You never cared about what my father had to say. As for me, do not talk to me like I'm your boy. I'm no one's boy,_ Aemond spat back.

Not about to let Caraxes get the jump on her and Aemond, she struck the Blood Wyrm with her tail, repaying the favor that Daemon's mount did and stunning her long enough for her to grab onto his body again. Caraxes tried to ward her away by breathing fire on her, but she was determined to take him down and bit on his wing. In fact, some of the heat flowed back to Daemon, whose eyes stung from the fire.

As they descended from the sky, Caraxes and Vhagar were forced to bash each other with their heads, as they were too close to burn each other and use their wings to strike back. Being the smaller dragon, Caraxes was able to bite into Vhagar's neck, but Vhagar responded by digging deeper in his wing. Now knowing that there was no way to escape her grasp and using all of his might, Caraxes used Vhagar's talons against her by going into a spin using her weakened wing arm.

In desperation, Daemon unsheathed Dark Sister and tried to hack at Vhagar's talons, only caring about his dragon and not the one claimed by his father and Laena. However, even Valyrian steel was not enough to deter a dragon's determination, and she would not let go.

The two dragons were locked into a spiral on a slightly downward angle, as Caraxes finally dug her teeth deep into Vhagar's neck. Her jaw continued to tighten around Vhagar's neck even as her teeth started tear off her wing and her claws opened Caraxes's belly. Even with a lot of blood spilling out, Caraxes kept hold. But Daemon felt the life be slowly sucked out of his dragon.

Daemon began to black out from the force of the spin, his hands getting peeled from how hard he was grabbing Caraxes' spines. With Vhagar doing his dragon some mortal damage, he knew that Vhagar would eventually kill them. With her wounds and exhaustion, with Caraxes and himself gone, the army would be exposed, and the battle would be over.

In a last attempt, Daemon reached out one more time. _Aemond, if you won't live for yourself, live for Helaena. Is she not worth coming back to? Hasn't she lost enough already?_

Daemon felt Aemond pause, hesitating since he did have an amiable bond with her. But he shook it off. _She has lost much, but she can lose more because she's strong. As for you, looks like my whore of a sister and your little bastards have made you soft. So, I'll do you a favor and kill them before I kill you. How's that?_

Daemon gulped, fear gripping him as he felt his fists clench tighter on Caraxes' spines while Caraxes tried one more time to throw her off and unleashing fire on Vhagar's left wing, causing her to shriek more. _You're not going to stop, are you?_

 _I've come too far to stop, uncle. And I won't stop until the rest of your line is dead. There's only one way to save them. Show who's better._ Vhagar roared, as if hearing her rider's challenge.

It was in that moment that Daemon saw the bloodlust in his nephew's eyes and the lengths he would go to ensure that all threats to him would be burnt. His mind flashed to Vhagar torching and burning the Red Keep, with the rest of the city on fire and bodies burning. He saw Vhagar rip apart Syrax, Moondancer, and Meleys with their riders on it, her jaws around Rhaenys, Baela, and Rhaenyra. He saw his sons strewn out on the ground their bodies blackened beyond recognition. And he saw himself, Rhaenyra's, and his family's bodies strung up for all to see, their corpses mutilated and desecrated. All that he had done for his children would be for nothing. And the worst part? Aemond was perfectly capable of all of that and he knew that his nephew wouldn't stop there.

With no other options left, Daemon told Caraxes, _Boy, I need you to do one more thing for me. Push yourself against Vhagar and give me an opening. I have to go after Aemond._

Daemon closed his eyes in pain, seeing clearly that there was only one way to make sure his family is safe. _You must end this, Daemon,_ Caraxes told him. _I'm with you, till the end._ Caraxes prepared herself for her inevitable death. _Your father and uncle would be proud. You were the best rider I could ask for._

Straining against Vhagar's jaws, he pushed upwards while his own jaws continued to grab onto her throat. But Daemon was afforded one chance, as he once again came face to face with Aemond. His nephew's good eye widened, not expecting his uncle to appear in front of him on dragonback.

Hearing Caraxes' wing snap off her body in mid-air, a sickening crack of bone and a rip of skin, Daemon readied Dark Sister and leaped from his dragon's back. All of his fears were confirmed when he saw once more into Aemond's eyes, and he knew what he had to do save his wife and children, resigning to himself to an action only a father would understand. _Goodbye, Aemond,_ he thought as he used his only but fleeting moment to adjust his aim to his nephew's good eye.

Miraculously, Caraxes' effort was not in vain, as Dark Sister struck its mark true and entered Aemond's eye socket. There was no screaming and no struggle as the blade of Visenya Targaryen ran through his brain and skull. But for just a second, Daemon could feel his nephew's final moment of rage before the light was abruptly taken from him. Both he and the lifeless body of Aemond flew off of Vhagar's back and into the waiting waters of the Gods Eye. As the surface grew closer, Daemon knew that there was not a good chance of him surviving with a collision with the water's surface from their altitude. He closed his eyes and said, "Forgive me, Nyra."

The pain from splashing into the water was quickly replaced with blackness and numbness. His mind flashed through all of the memories of his life. Before they were close to power, before they were men, he remembered laughing with Viserys in the halls of Dragonstone and chasing him through the gardens like the innocent boys they were. He remembered the touch of their mother Alyssa and how she loved both of her boys so. _I'm sorry I wasn't always your dear brother, Viserys. I'm so sorry._

His thoughts then turned his first triumph in the Stepstones, to Laena and the birth of Baela and Rhaena, to his first wooing of Rhaenyra and their wedding. To the births of his sons and the touch of his baby daughter, to feeling the life growing in Rhaenyra's belly. His mind then went to when he met his grandsire Jaehaerys, all of the affection he received from his father Baelon, and the joy he felt when he mounted Caraxes. In his mind, Daemon resigned himself to his death. _Gods, I have lived fully, and I wish that I could have lived more, but if this is the end, please take me peacefully. And please watch over my family. Too much pain has been felt, so please end it,_ he prayed.

But then, he started to feel a sensation on his chest and his cheek. With each shove, he felt the touch of fingers and then a hard slap. His eyes opened, to see Cregan, Ser Corwyn, Ser Torrhen, and the others looking at him.

Alarmed, Daemon tried to wrestle Cregan away from his chest, but the Lord of Winterfell shook him. "Calm down, Prince Daemon! Calm down!"

Daemon coughed out some water, but his senses came back to him. He smelled the familiar scent of spilled blood, touched wet dirt underneath him, and heard men whispering amongst each other. As for Cregan, his armor was bloodied, the mail crushed and twisted, his hair and face covered in soot and blood, and cuts were all over his face. Besides that, he seemed fine.

But… Daemon couldn't believe he was alive. He blinked again, believing that this was the gods' attempt at mocking him and punishing him for his misdeeds. There was no way that anyone would survive that fall, not even the one people called the Rogue Prince. Daemon did have a belief in the afterlife, but he would not have expected so much blood, fire, smoke, and water around him. He could make out the scent of rotting flesh, see smoke rising, and hear water splashing.

"I must be in one of the Seven Hells, for this is too much death to look and feel upon," Daemon said aloud.

"Enough with that nonsense," Cregan scoffed. "Imagine what Princess Baela would say when she sees you talk about death."

And that was what convinced Daemon that he was still in the land of the living, as only Lord Stark would have the gall to talk to him in that manner. _Ah, the northmen… so crass that it's normal enough in the world that I live in,_ Daemon groaned.

"You fell into the Gods Eye, with Aemond and Caraxes," Cregan told him. "I'm sorry, but your dragon is dead."

Daemon put his hand back against the sand, grief filling him, but he couldn't cry in front of the others. The bond between a rider and a dragon was akin to the feeling one felt when they found the other half of their heart. No one could control which rider will bond with which dragon, but when it does happen, it's almost as if that person found what he was looking for all of his life, a purpose and someone to depend on.

After trying to reach to Caraxes, and feeling nothing but silence, Daemon's breathing became more shallow, as he not only lost the dragon of his uncle Aemon, he lost one of the true bonds that he had in this world, a bond that existed beyond man and beyond the limits of the earth. What he felt was similar to when Laena died and would be exactly what he would feel if Rhaenyra died before him. _I'm sorry. I'm sorry,_ Daemon thought in vain, as there was no one to hear him.

"Where is he?" Daemon grabbed Cregan's collar.

"Who?"

"Both of them!"

"We were unable to find Aemond's corpse, but we got this," Cregan held up a crown, the same one worn by Aegon the Conqueror. "The corpse of Caraxes washed up on the shores not far from here, but you're in no position to move."

Daemon tried to sit himself up, but he felt nothing from the waist down. "What's this? I can't move."

Cregan, Ser Corwyn, and the others glanced at each other, fearful of his new condition.

"Can you feel this?" Cregan pinched his thigh, only for Daemon to shake his head.

Before any of them could really understand what was going on, a roar could be heard. Daemon looked around and felt terror as Vhagar landed in the half-submerged shores of the Gods Eye and moved towards him, as if to avenge her rider. To Daemon's surprise, Cregan remained by his side even though he was frightened.

But before it bit them both, Vhagar roared in challenge. Growling as her snout sniffed at them, Daemon could see something change in her eyes. It was as if she was remembering who Daemon was, and how long they have known each other. With the duel over and everything else on the shores quiet, there was nothing more that could be done.

 _You killed Aemond,_ he heard her say.

 _You killed Caraxes, the one born from you,_ Daemon answered.

 _Looks like we both lost something from this,_ Vhagar said.

 _You might have lost three riders, Vhagar, but not only did my nephew die while riding you, my father and my wife Laena were your last riders. So, who do you think took the most?_ Daemon asked with bitterness.

Vhagar thought deeply on that, while Cregan could only watch in amazement as the biggest dragon had not killed Daemon for killing her rider.

And Daemon was also nervous, as the body that he could feel was trembling in fear as Vhagar looked at him deeply. Cocking her head, she closed her mouth, making it clear that she wasn't going to burn him.

 _I'll see you… Daemon,_ he heard Vhagar say before she flew back into the air and towards the east. Cregan and the others stepped back, not completely understanding what had just happened.

Letting out a sigh of relief at both Vhagar sparing him and the fact that he was alive at all, his next concern went for the battle. "Did we win?"

"After we charged their line, we fought them out of formations. Seems that the Reachmen and stormlanders were hoping that Vhagar would burn us for them, but you kept her busy long enough for us to exhaust them. We then broke into the holdfast and burned their camp as we killed many of them and the rest either retreated westward or surrendered," Cregan answered.

"What about our losses?"

"Heavy," Cregan was honest. "We might not be able to fight for a while, but we made sure that they couldn't either."

Daemon nodded as he fell back, his relief turning into grief for Caraxes and Aemond. But even though there will be those who would call him a kinslayer, he accepted his fate because his family could now live.

And the next problem that would now have to be dealt with was the use of his legs. Feeling his legs, he noticed Dark Sister wasn't there and panicked. But Cregan saw it and revealed that he held the sword of Visenya Targaryen.

Daemon looked up to the sky and prayed to the warrior queen of House Targaryen. _My sword went against Vhagar. Please forgive me,_ he silently thought as Daemon was taken to his tent to be treated. But with the battle over, he slipped into the waiting arms of sleep, where he would remain for three days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ground battle itself was based on the battle of Philippi (42 BC), set during the war between Octavian/Antony and essentially those who stabbed Julius Caesar to death. As for the dragon duel, that was probably the most difficult part since I had to draw on how air combat worked and also make it impactful, as it is the duel between Daemon and Aemond.
> 
> For those that might question Daemon's survival, he didn't come out of it unscathed. At the same time, Vhagar is still alive (no offense to Martin, but he disposed of the last of the original dragons of the Conquest too easily). Her survival will impact the post-Dance years significantly.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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